diff --git "a/pg120.txt" "b/pg120.txt" new file mode 100644--- /dev/null +++ "b/pg120.txt" @@ -0,0 +1,7479 @@ +TREASURE ISLAND + +by Robert Louis Stevenson + + + + +TREASURE ISLAND + +To S.L.O., an American gentleman in accordance with whose classic taste +the following narrative has been designed, it is now, in return for +numerous delightful hours, and with the kindest wishes, dedicated by his +affectionate friend, the author. + + + + TO THE HESITATING PURCHASER + + If sailor tales to sailor tunes, + Storm and adventure, heat and cold, + If schooners, islands, and maroons, + And buccaneers, and buried gold, + And all the old romance, retold + Exactly in the ancient way, + Can please, as me they pleased of old, + The wiser youngsters of today: + + --So be it, and fall on! If not, + If studious youth no longer crave, + His ancient appetites forgot, + Kingston, or Ballantyne the brave, + Or Cooper of the wood and wave: + So be it, also! And may I + And all my pirates share the grave + Where these and their creations lie! + + + CONTENTS + + PART ONE + The Old Buccaneer + + I. THE OLD SEA-DOG AT THE ADMIRAL BENBOW . . . . 11 + II. BLACK DOG APPEARS AND DISAPPEARS . . . . . . 17 + III. THE BLACK SPOT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24 + IV. THE SEA-CHEST . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30 + V. THE LAST OF THE BLIND MAN . . . . . . . . . . 36 + VI. THE CAPTAIN’S PAPERS . . . . . . . . . . . . 41 + + PART TWO + The Sea Cook + + VII. I GO TO BRISTOL . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48 + VIII. AT THE SIGN OF THE SPY-GLASS . . . . . . . 54 + IX. POWDER AND ARMS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59 + X. THE VOYAGE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 64 + XI. WHAT I HEARD IN THE APPLE-BARREL . . . . . . 70 + XII. COUNCIL OF WAR . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 76 + + PART THREE + My Shore Adventure + + XIII. HOW I BEGAN MY SHORE ADVENTURE . . . . . . 82 + XIV. THE FIRST BLOW . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 87 + XV. THE MAN OF THE ISLAND. . . . . . . . . . . . 93 + + PART FOUR + The Stockade + + XVI. NARRATIVE CONTINUED BY THE DOCTOR: + HOW THE SHIP WAS ABANDONED . . . . . . . . 100 + XVII. NARRATIVE CONTINUED BY THE DOCTOR: + THE JOLLY-BOAT’S LAST TRIP . . . . . . . . 105 + XVIII. NARRATIVE CONTINUED BY THE DOCTOR: + END OF THE FIRST DAY’S FIGHTING . . . . . 109 + XIX. NARRATIVE RESUMED BY JIM HAWKINS: + THE GARRISON IN THE STOCKADE . . . . . . . 114 + XX. SILVER’S EMBASSY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 120 + XXI. THE ATTACK . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 125 + + PART FIVE + My Sea Adventure + + XXII. HOW I BEGAN MY SEA ADVENTURE . . . . . . . 132 + XXIII. THE EBB-TIDE RUNS . . . . . . . . . . . 138 + XXIV. THE CRUISE OF THE CORACLE . . . . . . . . 143 + XXV. I STRIKE THE JOLLY ROGER . . . . . . . . . 148 + XXVI. ISRAEL HANDS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 153 + XXVII. “PIECES OF EIGHT” . . . . . . . . . . . 161 + + PART SIX + Captain Silver + + XXVIII. IN THE ENEMY’S CAMP . . . . . . . . . . 168 + XXIX. THE BLACK SPOT AGAIN . . . . . . . . . . . 176 + XXX. ON PAROLE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 182 + XXXI. THE TREASURE-HUNT--FLINT’S POINTER . . . . 189 + XXXII. THE TREASURE-HUNT--THE VOICE AMONG + THE TREES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 195 + XXXIII. THE FALL OF A CHIEFTAIN . . . . . . . . 201 + XXXIV. AND LAST . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 207 + + + + +TREASURE ISLAND + + + + +<|endoftext|>PART ONE--The Old Buccaneer + + + + +I +The Old Sea-dog at the Admiral Benbow + + +Squire Trelawney, Dr. Livesey, and the rest of these gentlemen having +asked me to write down the whole particulars about Treasure Island, from +the beginning to the end, keeping nothing back but the bearings of the +island, and that only because there is still treasure not yet lifted, I +take up my pen in the year of grace 17—, and go back to the time when +my father kept the Admiral Benbow inn and the brown old seaman with the +sabre cut first took up his lodging under our roof. + +I remember him as if it were yesterday, as he came plodding to the +inn door, his sea-chest following behind him in a hand-barrow--a +tall, strong, heavy, nut-brown man, his tarry pigtail falling over the +shoulder of his soiled blue coat, his hands ragged and scarred, with +black, broken nails, and the sabre cut across one cheek, a dirty, livid +white. I remember him looking round the cove and whistling to himself +as he did so, and then breaking out in that old sea-song that he sang so +often afterwards: + + “Fifteen men on the dead man’s chest-- + Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!” + +in the high, old tottering voice that seemed to have been tuned and +broken at the capstan bars. Then he rapped on the door with a bit of +stick like a handspike that he carried, and when my father appeared, +called roughly for a glass of rum. This, when it was brought to him, +he drank slowly, like a connoisseur, lingering on the taste and still +looking about him at the cliffs and up at our signboard. + +“This is a handy cove,” says he at length; “and a pleasant sittyated +grog-shop. Much company, mate?” + +My father told him no, very little company, the more was the pity. + +“Well, then,” said he, “this is the berth for me. Here you, matey,” he +cried to the man who trundled the barrow; “bring up alongside and help +up my chest. I’ll stay here a bit,” he continued. “I’m a plain man; rum +and bacon and eggs is what I want, and that head up there for to watch +ships off. What you mought call me? You mought call me captain. Oh, I +see what you’re at--there”; and he threw down three or four gold pieces +on the threshold. “You can tell me when I’ve worked through that,” says +he, looking as fierce as a commander. + +And indeed bad as his clothes were and coarsely as he spoke, he had none +of the appearance of a man who sailed before the mast, but seemed like +a mate or skipper accustomed to be obeyed or to strike. The man who came +with the barrow told us the mail had set him down the morning before at +the Royal George, that he had inquired what inns there were along the +coast, and hearing ours well spoken of, I suppose, and described as +lonely, had chosen it from the others for his place of residence. And +that was all we could learn of our guest. + +He was a very silent man by custom. All day he hung round the cove or +upon the cliffs with a brass telescope; all evening he sat in a corner +of the parlour next the fire and drank rum and water very strong. Mostly +he would not speak when spoken to, only look up sudden and fierce and +blow through his nose like a fog-horn; and we and the people who came +about our house soon learned to let him be. Every day when he came back +from his stroll he would ask if any seafaring men had gone by along the +road. At first we thought it was the want of company of his own kind +that made him ask this question, but at last we began to see he was +desirous to avoid them. When a seaman did put up at the Admiral Benbow +(as now and then some did, making by the coast road for Bristol) he +would look in at him through the curtained door before he entered the +parlour; and he was always sure to be as silent as a mouse when any such +was present. For me, at least, there was no secret about the matter, for +I was, in a way, a sharer in his alarms. He had taken me aside one day +and promised me a silver fourpenny on the first of every month if I +would only keep my “weather-eye open for a seafaring man with one leg” + and let him know the moment he appeared. Often enough when the first +of the month came round and I applied to him for my wage, he would only +blow through his nose at me and stare me down, but before the week was +out he was sure to think better of it, bring me my four-penny piece, and +repeat his orders to look out for “the seafaring man with one leg.” + +How that personage haunted my dreams, I need scarcely tell you. On +stormy nights, when the wind shook the four corners of the house and +the surf roared along the cove and up the cliffs, I would see him in a +thousand forms, and with a thousand diabolical expressions. Now the leg +would be cut off at the knee, now at the hip; now he was a monstrous +kind of a creature who had never had but the one leg, and that in the +middle of his body. To see him leap and run and pursue me over hedge and +ditch was the worst of nightmares. And altogether I paid pretty dear for +my monthly fourpenny piece, in the shape of these abominable fancies. + +But though I was so terrified by the idea of the seafaring man with one +leg, I was far less afraid of the captain himself than anybody else who +knew him. There were nights when he took a deal more rum and water +than his head would carry; and then he would sometimes sit and sing his +wicked, old, wild sea-songs, minding nobody; but sometimes he would call +for glasses round and force all the trembling company to listen to his +stories or bear a chorus to his singing. Often I have heard the house +shaking with “Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum,” all the neighbours joining +in for dear life, with the fear of death upon them, and each singing +louder than the other to avoid remark. For in these fits he was the most +overriding companion ever known; he would slap his hand on the table for +silence all round; he would fly up in a passion of anger at a question, +or sometimes because none was put, and so he judged the company was not +following his story. Nor would he allow anyone to leave the inn till he +had drunk himself sleepy and reeled off to bed. + +His stories were what frightened people worst of all. Dreadful stories +they were--about hanging, and walking the plank, and storms at sea, and +the Dry Tortugas, and wild deeds and places on the Spanish Main. By his +own account he must have lived his life among some of the wickedest men +that God ever allowed upon the sea, and the language in which he told +these stories shocked our plain country people almost as much as the +crimes that he described. My father was always saying the inn would be +ruined, for people would soon cease coming there to be tyrannized over +and put down, and sent shivering to their beds; but I really believe his +presence did us good. People were frightened at the time, but on looking +back they rather liked it; it was a fine excitement in a quiet country +life, and there was even a party of the younger men who pretended to +admire him, calling him a “true sea-dog” and a “real old salt” and +such like names, and saying there was the sort of man that made England +terrible at sea. + +In one way, indeed, he bade fair to ruin us, for he kept on staying week +after week, and at last month after month, so that all the money had +been long exhausted, and still my father never plucked up the heart to +insist on having more. If ever he mentioned it, the captain blew through +his nose so loudly that you might say he roared, and stared my poor +father out of the room. I have seen him wringing his hands after such a +rebuff, and I am sure the annoyance and the terror he lived in must have +greatly hastened his early and unhappy death. + +All the time he lived with us the captain made no change whatever in his +dress but to buy some stockings from a hawker. One of the cocks of his +hat having fallen down, he let it hang from that day forth, though it +was a great annoyance when it blew. I remember the appearance of his +coat, which he patched himself upstairs in his room, and which, before +the end, was nothing but patches. He never wrote or received a letter, +and he never spoke with any but the neighbours, and with these, for the +most part, only when drunk on rum. The great sea-chest none of us had +ever seen open. + +He was only once crossed, and that was towards the end, when my poor +father was far gone in a decline that took him off. Dr. Livesey came +late one afternoon to see the patient, took a bit of dinner from my +mother, and went into the parlour to smoke a pipe until his horse should +come down from the hamlet, for we had no stabling at the old Benbow. I +followed him in, and I remember observing the contrast the neat, bright +doctor, with his powder as white as snow and his bright, black eyes and +pleasant manners, made with the coltish country folk, and above all, +with that filthy, heavy, bleared scarecrow of a pirate of ours, sitting, +far gone in rum, with his arms on the table. Suddenly he--the captain, +that is--began to pipe up his eternal song: + + “Fifteen men on the dead man’s chest-- + Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum! + Drink and the devil had done for the rest-- + Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!” + +At first I had supposed “the dead man’s chest” to be that identical big +box of his upstairs in the front room, and the thought had been mingled +in my nightmares with that of the one-legged seafaring man. But by this +time we had all long ceased to pay any particular notice to the song; it +was new, that night, to nobody but Dr. Livesey, and on him I observed it +did not produce an agreeable effect, for he looked up for a moment quite +angrily before he went on with his talk to old Taylor, the gardener, on +a new cure for the rheumatics. In the meantime, the captain gradually +brightened up at his own music, and at last flapped his hand upon +the table before him in a way we all knew to mean silence. The voices +stopped at once, all but Dr. Livesey’s; he went on as before speaking +clear and kind and drawing briskly at his pipe between every word or +two. The captain glared at him for a while, flapped his hand again, +glared still harder, and at last broke out with a villainous, low oath, +“Silence, there, between decks!” + +“Were you addressing me, sir?” says the doctor; and when the ruffian had +told him, with another oath, that this was so, “I have only one thing to +say to you, sir,” replies the doctor, “that if you keep on drinking rum, +the world will soon be quit of a very dirty scoundrel!” + +The old fellow’s fury was awful. He sprang to his feet, drew and opened +a sailor’s clasp-knife, and balancing it open on the palm of his hand, +threatened to pin the doctor to the wall. + +The doctor never so much as moved. He spoke to him as before, over his +shoulder and in the same tone of voice, rather high, so that all the +room might hear, but perfectly calm and steady: “If you do not put that +knife this instant in your pocket, I promise, upon my honour, you shall +hang at the next assizes.” + +Then followed a battle of looks between them, but the captain soon +knuckled under, put up his weapon, and resumed his seat, grumbling like +a beaten dog. + +“And now, sir,” continued the doctor, “since I now know there’s such a +fellow in my district, you may count I’ll have an eye upon you day and +night. I’m not a doctor only; I’m a magistrate; and if I catch a breath +of complaint against you, if it’s only for a piece of incivility like +tonight’s, I’ll take effectual means to have you hunted down and routed +out of this. Let that suffice.” + +Soon after, Dr. Livesey’s horse came to the door and he rode away, but +the captain held his peace that evening, and for many evenings to come. + + + + +II +Black Dog Appears and Disappears + + +It was not very long after this that there occurred the first of the +mysterious events that rid us at last of the captain, though not, as you +will see, of his affairs. It was a bitter cold winter, with long, hard +frosts and heavy gales; and it was plain from the first that my poor +father was little likely to see the spring. He sank daily, and my mother +and I had all the inn upon our hands, and were kept busy enough without +paying much regard to our unpleasant guest. + +It was one January morning, very early--a pinching, frosty morning--the +cove all grey with hoar-frost, the ripple lapping softly on the stones, +the sun still low and only touching the hilltops and shining far to +seaward. The captain had risen earlier than usual and set out down the +beach, his cutlass swinging under the broad skirts of the old blue coat, +his brass telescope under his arm, his hat tilted back upon his head. I +remember his breath hanging like smoke in his wake as he strode off, and +the last sound I heard of him as he turned the big rock was a loud snort +of indignation, as though his mind was still running upon Dr. Livesey. + +Well, mother was upstairs with father and I was laying the +breakfast-table against the captain’s return when the parlour door +opened and a man stepped in on whom I had never set my eyes before. He +was a pale, tallowy creature, wanting two fingers of the left hand, and +though he wore a cutlass, he did not look much like a fighter. I +had always my eye open for seafaring men, with one leg or two, and I +remember this one puzzled me. He was not sailorly, and yet he had a +smack of the sea about him too. + +I asked him what was for his service, and he said he would take rum; but +as I was going out of the room to fetch it, he sat down upon a table +and motioned me to draw near. I paused where I was, with my napkin in my +hand. + +“Come here, sonny,” says he. “Come nearer here.” + +I took a step nearer. + +“Is this here table for my mate Bill?” he asked with a kind of leer. + +I told him I did not know his mate Bill, and this was for a person who +stayed in our house whom we called the captain. + +“Well,” said he, “my mate Bill would be called the captain, as like +as not. He has a cut on one cheek and a mighty pleasant way with him, +particularly in drink, has my mate Bill. We’ll put it, for argument +like, that your captain has a cut on one cheek--and we’ll put it, if you +like, that that cheek’s the right one. Ah, well! I told you. Now, is my +mate Bill in this here house?” + +I told him he was out walking. + +“Which way, sonny? Which way is he gone?” + +And when I had pointed out the rock and told him how the captain was +likely to return, and how soon, and answered a few other questions, +“Ah,” said he, “this’ll be as good as drink to my mate Bill.” + +The expression of his face as he said these words was not at all +pleasant, and I had my own reasons for thinking that the stranger was +mistaken, even supposing he meant what he said. But it was no affair of +mine, I thought; and besides, it was difficult to know what to do. The +stranger kept hanging about just inside the inn door, peering round the +corner like a cat waiting for a mouse. Once I stepped out myself into +the road, but he immediately called me back, and as I did not obey quick +enough for his fancy, a most horrible change came over his tallowy face, +and he ordered me in with an oath that made me jump. As soon as I +was back again he returned to his former manner, half fawning, half +sneering, patted me on the shoulder, told me I was a good boy and he had +taken quite a fancy to me. “I have a son of my own,” said he, “as like +you as two blocks, and he’s all the pride of my ’art. But the great +thing for boys is discipline, sonny--discipline. Now, if you had sailed +along of Bill, you wouldn’t have stood there to be spoke to twice--not +you. That was never Bill’s way, nor the way of sich as sailed with him. +And here, sure enough, is my mate Bill, with a spy-glass under his arm, +bless his old ’art, to be sure. You and me’ll just go back into the +parlour, sonny, and get behind the door, and we’ll give Bill a little +surprise--bless his ’art, I say again.” + +So saying, the stranger backed along with me into the parlour and put me +behind him in the corner so that we were both hidden by the open door. I +was very uneasy and alarmed, as you may fancy, and it rather added to my +fears to observe that the stranger was certainly frightened himself. He +cleared the hilt of his cutlass and loosened the blade in the sheath; +and all the time we were waiting there he kept swallowing as if he felt +what we used to call a lump in the throat. + +At last in strode the captain, slammed the door behind him, without +looking to the right or left, and marched straight across the room to +where his breakfast awaited him. + +“Bill,” said the stranger in a voice that I thought he had tried to make +bold and big. + +The captain spun round on his heel and fronted us; all the brown had +gone out of his face, and even his nose was blue; he had the look of a +man who sees a ghost, or the evil one, or something worse, if anything +can be; and upon my word, I felt sorry to see him all in a moment turn +so old and sick. + +“Come, Bill, you know me; you know an old shipmate, Bill, surely,” said +the stranger. + +The captain made a sort of gasp. + +“Black Dog!” said he. + +“And who else?” returned the other, getting more at his ease. “Black +Dog as ever was, come for to see his old shipmate Billy, at the Admiral +Benbow inn. Ah, Bill, Bill, we have seen a sight of times, us two, since +I lost them two talons,” holding up his mutilated hand. + +“Now, look here,” said the captain; “you’ve run me down; here I am; +well, then, speak up; what is it?” + +“That’s you, Bill,” returned Black Dog, “you’re in the right of it, +Billy. I’ll have a glass of rum from this dear child here, as I’ve took +such a liking to; and we’ll sit down, if you please, and talk square, +like old shipmates.” + +When I returned with the rum, they were already seated on either side +of the captain’s breakfast-table--Black Dog next to the door and +sitting sideways so as to have one eye on his old shipmate and one, as I +thought, on his retreat. + +He bade me go and leave the door wide open. “None of your keyholes for +me, sonny,” he said; and I left them together and retired into the bar. + +For a long time, though I certainly did my best to listen, I could hear +nothing but a low gattling; but at last the voices began to grow higher, +and I could pick up a word or two, mostly oaths, from the captain. + +“No, no, no, no; and an end of it!” he cried once. And again, “If it +comes to swinging, swing all, say I.” + +Then all of a sudden there was a tremendous explosion of oaths and +other noises--the chair and table went over in a lump, a clash of steel +followed, and then a cry of pain, and the next instant I saw Black +Dog in full flight, and the captain hotly pursuing, both with drawn +cutlasses, and the former streaming blood from the left shoulder. Just +at the door the captain aimed at the fugitive one last tremendous +cut, which would certainly have split him to the chine had it not been +intercepted by our big signboard of Admiral Benbow. You may see the +notch on the lower side of the frame to this day. + +That blow was the last of the battle. Once out upon the road, Black +Dog, in spite of his wound, showed a wonderful clean pair of heels and +disappeared over the edge of the hill in half a minute. The captain, for +his part, stood staring at the signboard like a bewildered man. Then he +passed his hand over his eyes several times and at last turned back into +the house. + +“Jim,” says he, “rum”; and as he spoke, he reeled a little, and caught +himself with one hand against the wall. + +“Are you hurt?” cried I. + +“Rum,” he repeated. “I must get away from here. Rum! Rum!” + +I ran to fetch it, but I was quite unsteadied by all that had fallen +out, and I broke one glass and fouled the tap, and while I was still +getting in my own way, I heard a loud fall in the parlour, and running +in, beheld the captain lying full length upon the floor. At the same +instant my mother, alarmed by the cries and fighting, came running +downstairs to help me. Between us we raised his head. He was breathing +very loud and hard, but his eyes were closed and his face a horrible +colour. + +“Dear, deary me,” cried my mother, “what a disgrace upon the house! And +your poor father sick!” + +In the meantime, we had no idea what to do to help the captain, nor any +other thought but that he had got his death-hurt in the scuffle with +the stranger. I got the rum, to be sure, and tried to put it down his +throat, but his teeth were tightly shut and his jaws as strong as iron. +It was a happy relief for us when the door opened and Doctor Livesey +came in, on his visit to my father. + +“Oh, doctor,” we cried, “what shall we do? Where is he wounded?” + +“Wounded? A fiddle-stick’s end!” said the doctor. “No more wounded than +you or I. The man has had a stroke, as I warned him. Now, Mrs. Hawkins, +just you run upstairs to your husband and tell him, if possible, nothing +about it. For my part, I must do my best to save this fellow’s trebly +worthless life; Jim, you get me a basin.” + +When I got back with the basin, the doctor had already ripped up the +captain’s sleeve and exposed his great sinewy arm. It was tattooed +in several places. “Here’s luck,” “A fair wind,” and “Billy Bones his +fancy,” were very neatly and clearly executed on the forearm; and up +near the shoulder there was a sketch of a gallows and a man hanging from +it--done, as I thought, with great spirit. + +“Prophetic,” said the doctor, touching this picture with his finger. +“And now, Master Billy Bones, if that be your name, we’ll have a look at +the colour of your blood. Jim,” he said, “are you afraid of blood?” + +“No, sir,” said I. + +“Well, then,” said he, “you hold the basin”; and with that he took his +lancet and opened a vein. + +A great deal of blood was taken before the captain opened his eyes +and looked mistily about him. First he recognized the doctor with +an unmistakable frown; then his glance fell upon me, and he looked +relieved. But suddenly his colour changed, and he tried to raise +himself, crying, “Where’s Black Dog?” + +“There is no Black Dog here,” said the doctor, “except what you have +on your own back. You have been drinking rum; you have had a stroke, +precisely as I told you; and I have just, very much against my own will, +dragged you headforemost out of the grave. Now, Mr. Bones--” + +“That’s not my name,” he interrupted. + +“Much I care,” returned the doctor. “It’s the name of a buccaneer of my +acquaintance; and I call you by it for the sake of shortness, and what I +have to say to you is this; one glass of rum won’t kill you, but if +you take one you’ll take another and another, and I stake my wig if you +don’t break off short, you’ll die--do you understand that?--die, and go +to your own place, like the man in the Bible. Come, now, make an effort. +I’ll help you to your bed for once.” + +Between us, with much trouble, we managed to hoist him upstairs, and +laid him on his bed, where his head fell back on the pillow as if he +were almost fainting. + +“Now, mind you,” said the doctor, “I clear my conscience--the name of +rum for you is death.” + +And with that he went off to see my father, taking me with him by the +arm. + +“This is nothing,” he said as soon as he had closed the door. “I have +drawn blood enough to keep him quiet awhile; he should lie for a week +where he is--that is the best thing for him and you; but another stroke +would settle him.” + + + + +III +The Black Spot + + +About noon I stopped at the captain’s door with some cooling drinks +and medicines. He was lying very much as we had left him, only a little +higher, and he seemed both weak and excited. + +“Jim,” he said, “you’re the only one here that’s worth anything, and you +know I’ve been always good to you. Never a month but I’ve given you a +silver fourpenny for yourself. And now you see, mate, I’m pretty low, +and deserted by all; and Jim, you’ll bring me one noggin of rum, now, +won’t you, matey?” + +“The doctor--” I began. + +But he broke in cursing the doctor, in a feeble voice but heartily. +“Doctors is all swabs,” he said; “and that doctor there, why, what do +he know about seafaring men? I been in places hot as pitch, and mates +dropping round with Yellow Jack, and the blessed land a-heaving like the +sea with earthquakes--what to the doctor know of lands like that?--and I +lived on rum, I tell you. It’s been meat and drink, and man and wife, +to me; and if I’m not to have my rum now I’m a poor old hulk on a lee +shore, my blood’ll be on you, Jim, and that doctor swab”; and he ran on +again for a while with curses. “Look, Jim, how my fingers fidges,” + he continued in the pleading tone. “I can’t keep ’em still, not I. I +haven’t had a drop this blessed day. That doctor’s a fool, I tell you. +If I don’t have a dram o’ rum, Jim, I’ll have the horrors; I seen some +on ’em already. I seen old Flint in the corner there, behind you; as +plain as print, I seen him; and if I get the horrors, I’m a man that +has lived rough, and I’ll raise Cain. Your doctor hisself said one glass +wouldn’t hurt me. I’ll give you a golden guinea for a noggin, Jim.” + +He was growing more and more excited, and this alarmed me for my father, +who was very low that day and needed quiet; besides, I was reassured by +the doctor’s words, now quoted to me, and rather offended by the offer +of a bribe. + +“I want none of your money,” said I, “but what you owe my father. I’ll +get you one glass, and no more.” + +When I brought it to him, he seized it greedily and drank it out. + +“Aye, aye,” said he, “that’s some better, sure enough. And now, matey, +did that doctor say how long I was to lie here in this old berth?” + +“A week at least,” said I. + +“Thunder!” he cried. “A week! I can’t do that; they’d have the black +spot on me by then. The lubbers is going about to get the wind of me +this blessed moment; lubbers as couldn’t keep what they got, and want to +nail what is another’s. Is that seamanly behaviour, now, I want to know? +But I’m a saving soul. I never wasted good money of mine, nor lost it +neither; and I’ll trick ’em again. I’m not afraid on ’em. I’ll shake out +another reef, matey, and daddle ’em again.” + +As he was thus speaking, he had risen from bed with great difficulty, +holding to my shoulder with a grip that almost made me cry out, and +moving his legs like so much dead weight. His words, spirited as they +were in meaning, contrasted sadly with the weakness of the voice in +which they were uttered. He paused when he had got into a sitting +position on the edge. + +“That doctor’s done me,” he murmured. “My ears is singing. Lay me back.” + +Before I could do much to help him he had fallen back again to his +former place, where he lay for a while silent. + +“Jim,” he said at length, “you saw that seafaring man today?” + +“Black Dog?” I asked. + +“Ah! Black Dog,” says he. “_He’s_ a bad ’un; but there’s worse that put him +on. Now, if I can’t get away nohow, and they tip me the black spot, mind +you, it’s my old sea-chest they’re after; you get on a horse--you can, +can’t you? Well, then, you get on a horse, and go to--well, yes, +I will!--to that eternal doctor swab, and tell him to pipe all +hands--magistrates and sich--and he’ll lay ’em aboard at the Admiral +Benbow--all old Flint’s crew, man and boy, all on ’em that’s left. I was +first mate, I was, old Flint’s first mate, and I’m the on’y one as knows +the place. He gave it me at Savannah, when he lay a-dying, like as if I +was to now, you see. But you won’t peach unless they get the black spot +on me, or unless you see that Black Dog again or a seafaring man with +one leg, Jim--him above all.” + +“But what is the black spot, captain?” I asked. + +“That’s a summons, mate. I’ll tell you if they get that. But you keep +your weather-eye open, Jim, and I’ll share with you equals, upon my +honour.” + +He wandered a little longer, his voice growing weaker; but soon after I +had given him his medicine, which he took like a child, with the remark, +“If ever a seaman wanted drugs, it’s me,” he fell at last into a heavy, +swoon-like sleep, in which I left him. What I should have done had all +gone well I do not know. Probably I should have told the whole story to +the doctor, for I was in mortal fear lest the captain should repent of +his confessions and make an end of me. But as things fell out, my poor +father died quite suddenly that evening, which put all other matters +on one side. Our natural distress, the visits of the neighbours, the +arranging of the funeral, and all the work of the inn to be carried on +in the meanwhile kept me so busy that I had scarcely time to think of +the captain, far less to be afraid of him. + +He got downstairs next morning, to be sure, and had his meals as usual, +though he ate little and had more, I am afraid, than his usual supply of +rum, for he helped himself out of the bar, scowling and blowing through +his nose, and no one dared to cross him. On the night before the funeral +he was as drunk as ever; and it was shocking, in that house of mourning, +to hear him singing away at his ugly old sea-song; but weak as he was, +we were all in the fear of death for him, and the doctor was suddenly +taken up with a case many miles away and was never near the house after +my father’s death. I have said the captain was weak, and indeed he +seemed rather to grow weaker than regain his strength. He clambered up +and down stairs, and went from the parlour to the bar and back again, +and sometimes put his nose out of doors to smell the sea, holding on to +the walls as he went for support and breathing hard and fast like a man +on a steep mountain. He never particularly addressed me, and it is my +belief he had as good as forgotten his confidences; but his temper was +more flighty, and allowing for his bodily weakness, more violent than +ever. He had an alarming way now when he was drunk of drawing his +cutlass and laying it bare before him on the table. But with all that, +he minded people less and seemed shut up in his own thoughts and rather +wandering. Once, for instance, to our extreme wonder, he piped up to a +different air, a kind of country love-song that he must have learned in +his youth before he had begun to follow the sea. + +So things passed until, the day after the funeral, and about three +o’clock of a bitter, foggy, frosty afternoon, I was standing at the door +for a moment, full of sad thoughts about my father, when I saw someone +drawing slowly near along the road. He was plainly blind, for he tapped +before him with a stick and wore a great green shade over his eyes and +nose; and he was hunched, as if with age or weakness, and wore a huge +old tattered sea-cloak with a hood that made him appear positively +deformed. I never saw in my life a more dreadful-looking figure. +He stopped a little from the inn, and raising his voice in an odd +sing-song, addressed the air in front of him, “Will any kind friend +inform a poor blind man, who has lost the precious sight of his eyes in +the gracious defence of his native country, England--and God bless King +George!--where or in what part of this country he may now be?” + +“You are at the Admiral Benbow, Black Hill Cove, my good man,” said I. + +“I hear a voice,” said he, “a young voice. Will you give me your hand, +my kind young friend, and lead me in?” + +I held out my hand, and the horrible, soft-spoken, eyeless creature +gripped it in a moment like a vise. I was so much startled that I +struggled to withdraw, but the blind man pulled me close up to him with +a single action of his arm. + +“Now, boy,” he said, “take me in to the captain.” + +“Sir,” said I, “upon my word I dare not.” + +“Oh,” he sneered, “that’s it! Take me in straight or I’ll break your +arm.” + +And he gave it, as he spoke, a wrench that made me cry out. + +“Sir,” said I, “it is for yourself I mean. The captain is not what he +used to be. He sits with a drawn cutlass. Another gentleman--” + +“Come, now, march,” interrupted he; and I never heard a voice so cruel, +and cold, and ugly as that blind man’s. It cowed me more than the pain, +and I began to obey him at once, walking straight in at the door and +towards the parlour, where our sick old buccaneer was sitting, dazed +with rum. The blind man clung close to me, holding me in one iron fist +and leaning almost more of his weight on me than I could carry. “Lead me +straight up to him, and when I’m in view, cry out, ‘Here’s a friend +for you, Bill.’ If you don’t, I’ll do this,” and with that he gave me a +twitch that I thought would have made me faint. Between this and that, I +was so utterly terrified of the blind beggar that I forgot my terror of +the captain, and as I opened the parlour door, cried out the words he +had ordered in a trembling voice. + +The poor captain raised his eyes, and at one look the rum went out of +him and left him staring sober. The expression of his face was not so +much of terror as of mortal sickness. He made a movement to rise, but I +do not believe he had enough force left in his body. + +“Now, Bill, sit where you are,” said the beggar. “If I can’t see, I can +hear a finger stirring. Business is business. Hold out your left hand. +Boy, take his left hand by the wrist and bring it near to my right.” + +We both obeyed him to the letter, and I saw him pass something from the +hollow of the hand that held his stick into the palm of the captain’s, +which closed upon it instantly. + +“And now that’s done,” said the blind man; and at the words he suddenly +left hold of me, and with incredible accuracy and nimbleness, +skipped out of the parlour and into the road, where, as I still stood +motionless, I could hear his stick go tap-tap-tapping into the distance. + +It was some time before either I or the captain seemed to gather our +senses, but at length, and about at the same moment, I released his +wrist, which I was still holding, and he drew in his hand and looked +sharply into the palm. + +“Ten o’clock!” he cried. “Six hours. We’ll do them yet,” and he sprang +to his feet. + +Even as he did so, he reeled, put his hand to his throat, stood swaying +for a moment, and then, with a peculiar sound, fell from his whole +height face foremost to the floor. + +I ran to him at once, calling to my mother. But haste was all in vain. +The captain had been struck dead by thundering apoplexy. It is a curious +thing to understand, for I had certainly never liked the man, though of +late I had begun to pity him, but as soon as I saw that he was dead, I +burst into a flood of tears. It was the second death I had known, and +the sorrow of the first was still fresh in my heart. + + + + +IV +The Sea-chest + + +I lost no time, of course, in telling my mother all that I knew, and +perhaps should have told her long before, and we saw ourselves at once +in a difficult and dangerous position. Some of the man’s money--if +he had any--was certainly due to us, but it was not likely that our +captain’s shipmates, above all the two specimens seen by me, Black +Dog and the blind beggar, would be inclined to give up their booty in +payment of the dead man’s debts. The captain’s order to mount at +once and ride for Doctor Livesey would have left my mother alone +and unprotected, which was not to be thought of. Indeed, it seemed +impossible for either of us to remain much longer in the house; the fall +of coals in the kitchen grate, the very ticking of the clock, filled +us with alarms. The neighbourhood, to our ears, seemed haunted by +approaching footsteps; and what between the dead body of the captain +on the parlour floor and the thought of that detestable blind beggar +hovering near at hand and ready to return, there were moments when, as +the saying goes, I jumped in my skin for terror. Something must speedily +be resolved upon, and it occurred to us at last to go forth together +and seek help in the neighbouring hamlet. No sooner said than done. +Bare-headed as we were, we ran out at once in the gathering evening and +the frosty fog. + +The hamlet lay not many hundred yards away, though out of view, on the +other side of the next cove; and what greatly encouraged me, it was +in an opposite direction from that whence the blind man had made his +appearance and whither he had presumably returned. We were not many +minutes on the road, though we sometimes stopped to lay hold of each +other and hearken. But there was no unusual sound--nothing but the low +wash of the ripple and the croaking of the inmates of the wood. + +It was already candle-light when we reached the hamlet, and I shall +never forget how much I was cheered to see the yellow shine in doors and +windows; but that, as it proved, was the best of the help we were likely +to get in that quarter. For--you would have thought men would have been +ashamed of themselves--no soul would consent to return with us to the +Admiral Benbow. The more we told of our troubles, the more--man, woman, +and child--they clung to the shelter of their houses. The name of +Captain Flint, though it was strange to me, was well enough known to +some there and carried a great weight of terror. Some of the men who +had been to field-work on the far side of the Admiral Benbow remembered, +besides, to have seen several strangers on the road, and taking them to +be smugglers, to have bolted away; and one at least had seen a little +lugger in what we called Kitt’s Hole. For that matter, anyone who was a +comrade of the captain’s was enough to frighten them to death. And the +short and the long of the matter was, that while we could get several +who were willing enough to ride to Dr. Livesey’s, which lay in another +direction, not one would help us to defend the inn. + +They say cowardice is infectious; but then argument is, on the other +hand, a great emboldener; and so when each had said his say, my mother +made them a speech. She would not, she declared, lose money that +belonged to her fatherless boy; “If none of the rest of you dare,” + she said, “Jim and I dare. Back we will go, the way we came, and small +thanks to you big, hulking, chicken-hearted men. We’ll have that chest +open, if we die for it. And I’ll thank you for that bag, Mrs. Crossley, +to bring back our lawful money in.” + +Of course I said I would go with my mother, and of course they all cried +out at our foolhardiness, but even then not a man would go along with +us. All they would do was to give me a loaded pistol lest we were +attacked, and to promise to have horses ready saddled in case we were +pursued on our return, while one lad was to ride forward to the doctor’s +in search of armed assistance. + +My heart was beating finely when we two set forth in the cold night upon +this dangerous venture. A full moon was beginning to rise and peered +redly through the upper edges of the fog, and this increased our haste, +for it was plain, before we came forth again, that all would be as +bright as day, and our departure exposed to the eyes of any watchers. +We slipped along the hedges, noiseless and swift, nor did we see or hear +anything to increase our terrors, till, to our relief, the door of the +Admiral Benbow had closed behind us. + +I slipped the bolt at once, and we stood and panted for a moment in the +dark, alone in the house with the dead captain’s body. Then my mother +got a candle in the bar, and holding each other’s hands, we advanced +into the parlour. He lay as we had left him, on his back, with his eyes +open and one arm stretched out. + +“Draw down the blind, Jim,” whispered my mother; “they might come and +watch outside. And now,” said she when I had done so, “we have to get +the key off _that;_ and who’s to touch it, I should like to know!” and she +gave a kind of sob as she said the words. + +I went down on my knees at once. On the floor close to his hand there +was a little round of paper, blackened on the one side. I could not +doubt that this was the _black spot;_ and taking it up, I found written +on the other side, in a very good, clear hand, this short message: “You +have till ten tonight.” + +“He had till ten, Mother,” said I; and just as I said it, our old clock +began striking. This sudden noise startled us shockingly; but the news +was good, for it was only six. + +“Now, Jim,” she said, “that key.” + +I felt in his pockets, one after another. A few small coins, a thimble, +and some thread and big needles, a piece of pigtail tobacco bitten away +at the end, his gully with the crooked handle, a pocket compass, and a +tinder box were all that they contained, and I began to despair. + +“Perhaps it’s round his neck,” suggested my mother. + +Overcoming a strong repugnance, I tore open his shirt at the neck, and +there, sure enough, hanging to a bit of tarry string, which I cut with +his own gully, we found the key. At this triumph we were filled with +hope and hurried upstairs without delay to the little room where he had +slept so long and where his box had stood since the day of his arrival. + +It was like any other seaman’s chest on the outside, the initial “B” + burned on the top of it with a hot iron, and the corners somewhat +smashed and broken as by long, rough usage. + +“Give me the key,” said my mother; and though the lock was very stiff, +she had turned it and thrown back the lid in a twinkling. + +A strong smell of tobacco and tar rose from the interior, but nothing +was to be seen on the top except a suit of very good clothes, carefully +brushed and folded. They had never been worn, my mother said. Under +that, the miscellany began--a quadrant, a tin canikin, several sticks of +tobacco, two brace of very handsome pistols, a piece of bar silver, an +old Spanish watch and some other trinkets of little value and mostly of +foreign make, a pair of compasses mounted with brass, and five or six +curious West Indian shells. I have often wondered since why he should +have carried about these shells with him in his wandering, guilty, and +hunted life. + +In the meantime, we had found nothing of any value but the silver and +the trinkets, and neither of these were in our way. Underneath there +was an old boat-cloak, whitened with sea-salt on many a harbour-bar. My +mother pulled it up with impatience, and there lay before us, the last +things in the chest, a bundle tied up in oilcloth, and looking like +papers, and a canvas bag that gave forth, at a touch, the jingle of +gold. + +“I’ll show these rogues that I’m an honest woman,” said my mother. “I’ll +have my dues, and not a farthing over. Hold Mrs. Crossley’s bag.” And +she began to count over the amount of the captain’s score from the +sailor’s bag into the one that I was holding. + +It was a long, difficult business, for the coins were of all countries +and sizes--doubloons, and louis d’ors, and guineas, and pieces of eight, +and I know not what besides, all shaken together at random. The guineas, +too, were about the scarcest, and it was with these only that my mother +knew how to make her count. + +When we were about half-way through, I suddenly put my hand upon her +arm, for I had heard in the silent frosty air a sound that brought my +heart into my mouth--the tap-tapping of the blind man’s stick upon the +frozen road. It drew nearer and nearer, while we sat holding our breath. +Then it struck sharp on the inn door, and then we could hear the handle +being turned and the bolt rattling as the wretched being tried to enter; +and then there was a long time of silence both within and without. +At last the tapping recommenced, and, to our indescribable joy and +gratitude, died slowly away again until it ceased to be heard. + +“Mother,” said I, “take the whole and let’s be going,” for I was sure +the bolted door must have seemed suspicious and would bring the whole +hornet’s nest about our ears, though how thankful I was that I had +bolted it, none could tell who had never met that terrible blind man. + +But my mother, frightened as she was, would not consent to take a +fraction more than was due to her and was obstinately unwilling to be +content with less. It was not yet seven, she said, by a long way; she +knew her rights and she would have them; and she was still arguing with +me when a little low whistle sounded a good way off upon the hill. That +was enough, and more than enough, for both of us. + +“I’ll take what I have,” she said, jumping to her feet. + +“And I’ll take this to square the count,” said I, picking up the oilskin +packet. + +Next moment we were both groping downstairs, leaving the candle by +the empty chest; and the next we had opened the door and were in full +retreat. We had not started a moment too soon. The fog was rapidly +dispersing; already the moon shone quite clear on the high ground on +either side; and it was only in the exact bottom of the dell and round +the tavern door that a thin veil still hung unbroken to conceal the +first steps of our escape. Far less than half-way to the hamlet, very +little beyond the bottom of the hill, we must come forth into the +moonlight. Nor was this all, for the sound of several footsteps running +came already to our ears, and as we looked back in their direction, a +light tossing to and fro and still rapidly advancing showed that one of +the newcomers carried a lantern. + +“My dear,” said my mother suddenly, “take the money and run on. I am +going to faint.” + +This was certainly the end for both of us, I thought. How I cursed the +cowardice of the neighbours; how I blamed my poor mother for her honesty +and her greed, for her past foolhardiness and present weakness! We were +just at the little bridge, by good fortune; and I helped her, tottering +as she was, to the edge of the bank, where, sure enough, she gave a sigh +and fell on my shoulder. I do not know how I found the strength to do it +at all, and I am afraid it was roughly done, but I managed to drag her +down the bank and a little way under the arch. Farther I could not move +her, for the bridge was too low to let me do more than crawl below it. +So there we had to stay--my mother almost entirely exposed and both of +us within earshot of the inn. + + + + +V +The Last of the Blind Man + + +My curiosity, in a sense, was stronger than my fear, for I could not +remain where I was, but crept back to the bank again, whence, sheltering +my head behind a bush of broom, I might command the road before our +door. I was scarcely in position ere my enemies began to arrive, seven +or eight of them, running hard, their feet beating out of time along +the road and the man with the lantern some paces in front. Three men ran +together, hand in hand; and I made out, even through the mist, that the +middle man of this trio was the blind beggar. The next moment his voice +showed me that I was right. + +“Down with the door!” he cried. + +“Aye, aye, sir!” answered two or three; and a rush was made upon the +Admiral Benbow, the lantern-bearer following; and then I could see +them pause, and hear speeches passed in a lower key, as if they were +surprised to find the door open. But the pause was brief, for the blind +man again issued his commands. His voice sounded louder and higher, as +if he were afire with eagerness and rage. + +“In, in, in!” he shouted, and cursed them for their delay. + +Four or five of them obeyed at once, two remaining on the road with the +formidable beggar. There was a pause, then a cry of surprise, and then a +voice shouting from the house, “Bill’s dead.” + +But the blind man swore at them again for their delay. + +“Search him, some of you shirking lubbers, and the rest of you aloft and +get the chest,” he cried. + +I could hear their feet rattling up our old stairs, so that the +house must have shook with it. Promptly afterwards, fresh sounds of +astonishment arose; the window of the captain’s room was thrown open +with a slam and a jingle of broken glass, and a man leaned out into the +moonlight, head and shoulders, and addressed the blind beggar on the +road below him. + +“Pew,” he cried, “they’ve been before us. Someone’s turned the chest out +alow and aloft.” + +“Is it there?” roared Pew. + +“The money’s there.” + +The blind man cursed the money. + +“Flint’s fist, I mean,” he cried. + +“We don’t see it here nohow,” returned the man. + +“Here, you below there, is it on Bill?” cried the blind man again. + +At that another fellow, probably him who had remained below to search +the captain’s body, came to the door of the inn. “Bill’s been overhauled +a’ready,” said he; “nothin’ left.” + +“It’s these people of the inn--it’s that boy. I wish I had put his eyes +out!” cried the blind man, Pew. “There were no time ago--they had the +door bolted when I tried it. Scatter, lads, and find ’em.” + +“Sure enough, they left their glim here,” said the fellow from the +window. + +“Scatter and find ’em! Rout the house out!” reiterated Pew, striking +with his stick upon the road. + +Then there followed a great to-do through all our old inn, heavy feet +pounding to and fro, furniture thrown over, doors kicked in, until the +very rocks re-echoed and the men came out again, one after another, on +the road and declared that we were nowhere to be found. And just +the same whistle that had alarmed my mother and myself over the dead +captain’s money was once more clearly audible through the night, +but this time twice repeated. I had thought it to be the blind man’s +trumpet, so to speak, summoning his crew to the assault, but I now found +that it was a signal from the hillside towards the hamlet, and from its +effect upon the buccaneers, a signal to warn them of approaching danger. + +“There’s Dirk again,” said one. “Twice! We’ll have to budge, mates.” + +“Budge, you skulk!” cried Pew. “Dirk was a fool and a coward from the +first--you wouldn’t mind him. They must be close by; they can’t be far; +you have your hands on it. Scatter and look for them, dogs! Oh, shiver +my soul,” he cried, “if I had eyes!” + +This appeal seemed to produce some effect, for two of the fellows began +to look here and there among the lumber, but half-heartedly, I thought, +and with half an eye to their own danger all the time, while the rest +stood irresolute on the road. + +“You have your hands on thousands, you fools, and you hang a leg! You’d +be as rich as kings if you could find it, and you know it’s here, and +you stand there skulking. There wasn’t one of you dared face Bill, and +I did it--a blind man! And I’m to lose my chance for you! I’m to be a +poor, crawling beggar, sponging for rum, when I might be rolling in a +coach! If you had the pluck of a weevil in a biscuit you would catch +them still.” + +“Hang it, Pew, we’ve got the doubloons!” grumbled one. + +“They might have hid the blessed thing,” said another. “Take the +Georges, Pew, and don’t stand here squalling.” + +Squalling was the word for it; Pew’s anger rose so high at these +objections till at last, his passion completely taking the upper hand, +he struck at them right and left in his blindness and his stick sounded +heavily on more than one. + +These, in their turn, cursed back at the blind miscreant, threatened him +in horrid terms, and tried in vain to catch the stick and wrest it from +his grasp. + +This quarrel was the saving of us, for while it was still raging, +another sound came from the top of the hill on the side of the +hamlet--the tramp of horses galloping. Almost at the same time a +pistol-shot, flash and report, came from the hedge side. And that was +plainly the last signal of danger, for the buccaneers turned at once +and ran, separating in every direction, one seaward along the cove, one +slant across the hill, and so on, so that in half a minute not a sign of +them remained but Pew. Him they had deserted, whether in sheer panic +or out of revenge for his ill words and blows I know not; but there he +remained behind, tapping up and down the road in a frenzy, and groping +and calling for his comrades. Finally he took a wrong turn and ran a few +steps past me, towards the hamlet, crying, “Johnny, Black Dog, Dirk,” + and other names, “you won’t leave old Pew, mates--not old Pew!” + +Just then the noise of horses topped the rise, and four or five riders +came in sight in the moonlight and swept at full gallop down the slope. + +At this Pew saw his error, turned with a scream, and ran straight for +the ditch, into which he rolled. But he was on his feet again in a +second and made another dash, now utterly bewildered, right under the +nearest of the coming horses. + +The rider tried to save him, but in vain. Down went Pew with a cry that +rang high into the night; and the four hoofs trampled and spurned him +and passed by. He fell on his side, then gently collapsed upon his face +and moved no more. + +I leaped to my feet and hailed the riders. They were pulling up, at any +rate, horrified at the accident; and I soon saw what they were. One, +tailing out behind the rest, was a lad that had gone from the hamlet to +Dr. Livesey’s; the rest were revenue officers, whom he had met by the +way, and with whom he had had the intelligence to return at once. Some +news of the lugger in Kitt’s Hole had found its way to Supervisor Dance +and set him forth that night in our direction, and to that circumstance +my mother and I owed our preservation from death. + +Pew was dead, stone dead. As for my mother, when we had carried her up +to the hamlet, a little cold water and salts and that soon brought her +back again, and she was none the worse for her terror, though she still +continued to deplore the balance of the money. In the meantime the +supervisor rode on, as fast as he could, to Kitt’s Hole; but his men +had to dismount and grope down the dingle, leading, and sometimes +supporting, their horses, and in continual fear of ambushes; so it was +no great matter for surprise that when they got down to the Hole the +lugger was already under way, though still close in. He hailed her. A +voice replied, telling him to keep out of the moonlight or he would get +some lead in him, and at the same time a bullet whistled close by his +arm. Soon after, the lugger doubled the point and disappeared. Mr. Dance +stood there, as he said, “like a fish out of water,” and all he could do +was to dispatch a man to B---- to warn the cutter. “And that,” said he, +“is just about as good as nothing. They’ve got off clean, and there’s +an end. Only,” he added, “I’m glad I trod on Master Pew’s corns,” for by +this time he had heard my story. + +I went back with him to the Admiral Benbow, and you cannot imagine a +house in such a state of smash; the very clock had been thrown down +by these fellows in their furious hunt after my mother and myself; +and though nothing had actually been taken away except the captain’s +money-bag and a little silver from the till, I could see at once that we +were ruined. Mr. Dance could make nothing of the scene. + +“They got the money, you say? Well, then, Hawkins, what in fortune were +they after? More money, I suppose?” + +“No, sir; not money, I think,” replied I. “In fact, sir, I believe I +have the thing in my breast pocket; and to tell you the truth, I should +like to get it put in safety.” + +“To be sure, boy; quite right,” said he. “I’ll take it, if you like.” + +“I thought perhaps Dr. Livesey--” I began. + +“Perfectly right,” he interrupted very cheerily, “perfectly right--a +gentleman and a magistrate. And, now I come to think of it, I might as +well ride round there myself and report to him or squire. Master Pew’s +dead, when all’s done; not that I regret it, but he’s dead, you see, and +people will make it out against an officer of his Majesty’s revenue, +if make it out they can. Now, I’ll tell you, Hawkins, if you like, I’ll +take you along.” + +I thanked him heartily for the offer, and we walked back to the hamlet +where the horses were. By the time I had told mother of my purpose they +were all in the saddle. + +“Dogger,” said Mr. Dance, “you have a good horse; take up this lad +behind you.” + +As soon as I was mounted, holding on to Dogger’s belt, the supervisor +gave the word, and the party struck out at a bouncing trot on the road +to Dr. Livesey’s house. + + + + +VI +The Captain’s Papers + + +We rode hard all the way till we drew up before Dr. Livesey’s door. The +house was all dark to the front. + +Mr. Dance told me to jump down and knock, and Dogger gave me a stirrup +to descend by. The door was opened almost at once by the maid. + +“Is Dr. Livesey in?” I asked. + +No, she said, he had come home in the afternoon but had gone up to the +hall to dine and pass the evening with the squire. + +“So there we go, boys,” said Mr. Dance. + +This time, as the distance was short, I did not mount, but ran with +Dogger’s stirrup-leather to the lodge gates and up the long, leafless, +moonlit avenue to where the white line of the hall buildings looked on +either hand on great old gardens. Here Mr. Dance dismounted, and taking +me along with him, was admitted at a word into the house. + +The servant led us down a matted passage and showed us at the end into a +great library, all lined with bookcases and busts upon the top of them, +where the squire and Dr. Livesey sat, pipe in hand, on either side of a +bright fire. + +I had never seen the squire so near at hand. He was a tall man, over six +feet high, and broad in proportion, and he had a bluff, rough-and-ready +face, all roughened and reddened and lined in his long travels. His +eyebrows were very black, and moved readily, and this gave him a look of +some temper, not bad, you would say, but quick and high. + +“Come in, Mr. Dance,” says he, very stately and condescending. + +“Good evening, Dance,” says the doctor with a nod. “And good evening to +you, friend Jim. What good wind brings you here?” + +The supervisor stood up straight and stiff and told his story like a +lesson; and you should have seen how the two gentlemen leaned forward +and looked at each other, and forgot to smoke in their surprise and +interest. When they heard how my mother went back to the inn, Dr. +Livesey fairly slapped his thigh, and the squire cried “Bravo!” and +broke his long pipe against the grate. Long before it was done, Mr. +Trelawney (that, you will remember, was the squire’s name) had got up +from his seat and was striding about the room, and the doctor, as if to +hear the better, had taken off his powdered wig and sat there looking +very strange indeed with his own close-cropped black poll. + +At last Mr. Dance finished the story. + +“Mr. Dance,” said the squire, “you are a very noble fellow. And as for +riding down that black, atrocious miscreant, I regard it as an act of +virtue, sir, like stamping on a cockroach. This lad Hawkins is a trump, +I perceive. Hawkins, will you ring that bell? Mr. Dance must have some +ale.” + +“And so, Jim,” said the doctor, “you have the thing that they were +after, have you?” + +“Here it is, sir,” said I, and gave him the oilskin packet. + +The doctor looked it all over, as if his fingers were itching to open +it; but instead of doing that, he put it quietly in the pocket of his +coat. + +“Squire,” said he, “when Dance has had his ale he must, of course, be +off on his Majesty’s service; but I mean to keep Jim Hawkins here to +sleep at my house, and with your permission, I propose we should have up +the cold pie and let him sup.” + +“As you will, Livesey,” said the squire; “Hawkins has earned better than +cold pie.” + +So a big pigeon pie was brought in and put on a sidetable, and I made +a hearty supper, for I was as hungry as a hawk, while Mr. Dance was +further complimented and at last dismissed. + +“And now, squire,” said the doctor. + +“And now, Livesey,” said the squire in the same breath. + +“One at a time, one at a time,” laughed Dr. Livesey. “You have heard of +this Flint, I suppose?” + +“Heard of him!” cried the squire. “Heard of him, you say! He was the +bloodthirstiest buccaneer that sailed. Blackbeard was a child to Flint. +The Spaniards were so prodigiously afraid of him that, I tell you, sir, +I was sometimes proud he was an Englishman. I’ve seen his top-sails with +these eyes, off Trinidad, and the cowardly son of a rum-puncheon that I +sailed with put back--put back, sir, into Port of Spain.” + +“Well, I’ve heard of him myself, in England,” said the doctor. “But the +point is, had he money?” + +“Money!” cried the squire. “Have you heard the story? What were these +villains after but money? What do they care for but money? For what +would they risk their rascal carcasses but money?” + +“That we shall soon know,” replied the doctor. “But you are so +confoundedly hot-headed and exclamatory that I cannot get a word in. +What I want to know is this: Supposing that I have here in my pocket +some clue to where Flint buried his treasure, will that treasure amount +to much?” + +“Amount, sir!” cried the squire. “It will amount to this: If we have the +clue you talk about, I fit out a ship in Bristol dock, and take you and +Hawkins here along, and I’ll have that treasure if I search a year.” + +“Very well,” said the doctor. “Now, then, if Jim is agreeable, we’ll +open the packet”; and he laid it before him on the table. + +The bundle was sewn together, and the doctor had to get out his +instrument case and cut the stitches with his medical scissors. It +contained two things--a book and a sealed paper. + +“First of all we’ll try the book,” observed the doctor. + +The squire and I were both peering over his shoulder as he opened +it, for Dr. Livesey had kindly motioned me to come round from the +side-table, where I had been eating, to enjoy the sport of the search. +On the first page there were only some scraps of writing, such as a man +with a pen in his hand might make for idleness or practice. One was the +same as the tattoo mark, “Billy Bones his fancy”; then there was “Mr. W. +Bones, mate,” “No more rum,” “Off Palm Key he got itt,” and some other +snatches, mostly single words and unintelligible. I could not help +wondering who it was that had “got itt,” and what “itt” was that he got. +A knife in his back as like as not. + +“Not much instruction there,” said Dr. Livesey as he passed on. + +The next ten or twelve pages were filled with a curious series of +entries. There was a date at one end of the line and at the other a +sum of money, as in common account-books, but instead of explanatory +writing, only a varying number of crosses between the two. On the 12th +of June, 1745, for instance, a sum of seventy pounds had plainly become +due to someone, and there was nothing but six crosses to explain the +cause. In a few cases, to be sure, the name of a place would be added, +as “Offe Caraccas,” or a mere entry of latitude and longitude, as “62o +17' 20", 19o 2' 40".” + +The record lasted over nearly twenty years, the amount of the separate +entries growing larger as time went on, and at the end a grand total +had been made out after five or six wrong additions, and these words +appended, “Bones, his pile.” + +“I can’t make head or tail of this,” said Dr. Livesey. + +“The thing is as clear as noonday,” cried the squire. “This is the +black-hearted hound’s account-book. These crosses stand for the names of +ships or towns that they sank or plundered. The sums are the scoundrel’s +share, and where he feared an ambiguity, you see he added something +clearer. ‘Offe Caraccas,’ now; you see, here was some unhappy vessel +boarded off that coast. God help the poor souls that manned her--coral +long ago.” + +“Right!” said the doctor. ���See what it is to be a traveller. Right! And +the amounts increase, you see, as he rose in rank.” + +There was little else in the volume but a few bearings of places noted +in the blank leaves towards the end and a table for reducing French, +English, and Spanish moneys to a common value. + +“Thrifty man!” cried the doctor. “He wasn’t the one to be cheated.” + +“And now,” said the squire, “for the other.” + +The paper had been sealed in several places with a thimble by way of +seal; the very thimble, perhaps, that I had found in the captain’s +pocket. The doctor opened the seals with great care, and there fell out +the map of an island, with latitude and longitude, soundings, names of +hills and bays and inlets, and every particular that would be needed +to bring a ship to a safe anchorage upon its shores. It was about nine +miles long and five across, shaped, you might say, like a fat dragon +standing up, and had two fine land-locked harbours, and a hill in the +centre part marked “The Spy-glass.” There were several additions of a +later date, but above all, three crosses of red ink--two on the north +part of the island, one in the southwest--and beside this last, in +the same red ink, and in a small, neat hand, very different from the +captain’s tottery characters, these words: “Bulk of treasure here.” + +Over on the back the same hand had written this further information: + + Tall tree, Spy-glass shoulder, bearing a point to + the N. of N.N.E. + + Skeleton Island E.S.E. and by E. + + Ten feet. + + The bar silver is in the north cache; you can find + it by the trend of the east hummock, ten fathoms + south of the black crag with the face on it. + + The arms are easy found, in the sand-hill, N. + point of north inlet cape, bearing E. and a + quarter N. + J.F. + +That was all; but brief as it was, and to me incomprehensible, it filled +the squire and Dr. Livesey with delight. + +“Livesey,” said the squire, “you will give up this wretched practice +at once. Tomorrow I start for Bristol. In three weeks’ time--three +weeks!--two weeks--ten days--we’ll have the best ship, sir, and the +choicest crew in England. Hawkins shall come as cabin-boy. You’ll make +a famous cabin-boy, Hawkins. You, Livesey, are ship’s doctor; I am +admiral. We’ll take Redruth, Joyce, and Hunter. We’ll have favourable +winds, a quick passage, and not the least difficulty in finding the +spot, and money to eat, to roll in, to play duck and drake with ever +after.” + +“Trelawney,” said the doctor, “I’ll go with you; and I’ll go bail for +it, so will Jim, and be a credit to the undertaking. There’s only one +man I’m afraid of.” + +“And who’s that?” cried the squire. “Name the dog, sir!” + +“You,” replied the doctor; “for you cannot hold your tongue. We are not +the only men who know of this paper. These fellows who attacked the +inn tonight--bold, desperate blades, for sure--and the rest who stayed +aboard that lugger, and more, I dare say, not far off, are, one and all, +through thick and thin, bound that they’ll get that money. We must none +of us go alone till we get to sea. Jim and I shall stick together in the +meanwhile; you’ll take Joyce and Hunter when you ride to Bristol, and +from first to last, not one of us must breathe a word of what we’ve +found.” + +“Livesey,” returned the squire, “you are always in the right of it. I’ll +be as silent as the grave.” + + + + +<|endoftext|>PART TWO--The Sea-cook + + + + +VII +I Go to Bristol + + +It was longer than the squire imagined ere we were ready for the sea, +and none of our first plans--not even Dr. Livesey’s, of keeping me +beside him--could be carried out as we intended. The doctor had to go +to London for a physician to take charge of his practice; the squire was +hard at work at Bristol; and I lived on at the hall under the charge of +old Redruth, the gamekeeper, almost a prisoner, but full of sea-dreams +and the most charming anticipations of strange islands and adventures. +I brooded by the hour together over the map, all the details of which +I well remembered. Sitting by the fire in the housekeeper’s room, I +approached that island in my fancy from every possible direction; I +explored every acre of its surface; I climbed a thousand times to that +tall hill they call the Spy-glass, and from the top enjoyed the most +wonderful and changing prospects. Sometimes the isle was thick with +savages, with whom we fought, sometimes full of dangerous animals that +hunted us, but in all my fancies nothing occurred to me so strange and +tragic as our actual adventures. + +So the weeks passed on, till one fine day there came a letter addressed +to Dr. Livesey, with this addition, “To be opened, in the case of his +absence, by Tom Redruth or young Hawkins.” Obeying this order, we +found, or rather I found--for the gamekeeper was a poor hand at reading +anything but print--the following important news: + + _Old Anchor Inn, Bristol, March 1, 17--._ + + Dear Livesey--As I do not know whether you + are at the hall or still in London, I send this in + double to both places. + + The ship is bought and fitted. She lies at + anchor, ready for sea. You never imagined a + sweeter schooner--a child might sail her--two + hundred tons; name, HISPANIOLA. + + I got her through my old friend, Blandly, who + has proved himself throughout the most surprising + trump. The admirable fellow literally slaved in + my interest, and so, I may say, did everyone in + Bristol, as soon as they got wind of the port we + sailed for--treasure, I mean. + +“Redruth,” said I, interrupting the letter, “Dr. Livesey will not like +that. The squire has been talking, after all.” + +“Well, who’s a better right?” growled the gamekeeper. “A pretty rum go +if squire ain’t to talk for Dr. Livesey, I should think.” + +At that I gave up all attempts at commentary and read straight on: + + Blandly himself found the HISPANIOLA, and + by the most admirable management got her for the + merest trifle. There is a class of men in Bristol + monstrously prejudiced against Blandly. They go + the length of declaring that this honest creature + would do anything for money, that the HISPANIOLA + belonged to him, and that he sold it me absurdly + high--the most transparent calumnies. None of them + dare, however, to deny the merits of the ship. + + So far there was not a hitch. The + workpeople, to be sure--riggers and what not--were + most annoyingly slow; but time cured that. It was + the crew that troubled me. + + I wished a round score of men--in case of + natives, buccaneers, or the odious French--and I + had the worry of the deuce itself to find so much + as half a dozen, till the most remarkable stroke + of fortune brought me the very man that I + required. + + I was standing on the dock, when, by the + merest accident, I fell in talk with him. I found + he was an old sailor, kept a public-house, knew + all the seafaring men in Bristol, had lost his + health ashore, and wanted a good berth as cook to + get to sea again. He had hobbled down there that + morning, he said, to get a smell of the salt. + + I was monstrously touched--so would you have + been--and, out of pure pity, I engaged him on the + spot to be ship’s cook. Long John Silver, he is + called, and has lost a leg; but that I regarded as + a recommendation, since he lost it in his + country’s service, under the immortal Hawke. He + has no pension, Livesey. Imagine the abominable + age we live in! + + Well, sir, I thought I had only found a cook, + but it was a crew I had discovered. Between + Silver and myself we got together in a few days a + company of the toughest old salts imaginable--not + pretty to look at, but fellows, by their faces, of + the most indomitable spirit. I declare we could + fight a frigate. + + Long John even got rid of two out of the six + or seven I had already engaged. He showed me in a + moment that they were just the sort of fresh-water + swabs we had to fear in an adventure of + importance. + + I am in the most magnificent health and + spirits, eating like a bull, sleeping like a tree, + yet I shall not enjoy a moment till I hear my old + tarpaulins tramping round the capstan. Seaward, + ho! Hang the treasure! It’s the glory of the sea + that has turned my head. So now, Livesey, come + post; do not lose an hour, if you respect me. + + Let young Hawkins go at once to see his + mother, with Redruth for a guard; and then both + come full speed to Bristol. + John Trelawney + + _Postscript._--I did not tell you that Blandly, + who, by the way, is to send a consort after us if + we don’t turn up by the end of August, had found + an admirable fellow for sailing master--a stiff + man, which I regret, but in all other respects a + treasure. Long John Silver unearthed a very + competent man for a mate, a man named Arrow. I + have a boatswain who pipes, Livesey; so things + shall go man-o’-war fashion on board the good ship + HISPANIOLA. + + I forgot to tell you that Silver is a man of + substance; I know of my own knowledge that he has + a banker’s account, which has never been + overdrawn. He leaves his wife to manage the inn; + and as she is a woman of colour, a pair of old + bachelors like you and I may be excused for + guessing that it is the wife, quite as much as the + health, that sends him back to roving. + J. T. + + P.P.S.--Hawkins may stay one night with his + mother. + J. T. + +You can fancy the excitement into which that letter put me. I was half +beside myself with glee; and if ever I despised a man, it was old +Tom Redruth, who could do nothing but grumble and lament. Any of the +under-gamekeepers would gladly have changed places with him; but such +was not the squire’s pleasure, and the squire’s pleasure was like law +among them all. Nobody but old Redruth would have dared so much as even +to grumble. + +The next morning he and I set out on foot for the Admiral Benbow, and +there I found my mother in good health and spirits. The captain, who had +so long been a cause of so much discomfort, was gone where the wicked +cease from troubling. The squire had had everything repaired, and the +public rooms and the sign repainted, and had added some furniture--above +all a beautiful armchair for mother in the bar. He had found her a boy +as an apprentice also so that she should not want help while I was gone. + +It was on seeing that boy that I understood, for the first time, my +situation. I had thought up to that moment of the adventures before me, +not at all of the home that I was leaving; and now, at sight of this +clumsy stranger, who was to stay here in my place beside my mother, I +had my first attack of tears. I am afraid I led that boy a dog’s life, +for as he was new to the work, I had a hundred opportunities of setting +him right and putting him down, and I was not slow to profit by them. + +The night passed, and the next day, after dinner, Redruth and I were +afoot again and on the road. I said good-bye to Mother and the +cove where I had lived since I was born, and the dear old Admiral +Benbow--since he was repainted, no longer quite so dear. One of my last +thoughts was of the captain, who had so often strode along the beach +with his cocked hat, his sabre-cut cheek, and his old brass telescope. +Next moment we had turned the corner and my home was out of sight. + +The mail picked us up about dusk at the Royal George on the heath. I was +wedged in between Redruth and a stout old gentleman, and in spite of the +swift motion and the cold night air, I must have dozed a great deal from +the very first, and then slept like a log up hill and down dale through +stage after stage, for when I was awakened at last it was by a punch +in the ribs, and I opened my eyes to find that we were standing still +before a large building in a city street and that the day had already +broken a long time. + +“Where are we?” I asked. + +“Bristol,” said Tom. “Get down.” + +Mr. Trelawney had taken up his residence at an inn far down the docks to +superintend the work upon the schooner. Thither we had now to walk, and +our way, to my great delight, lay along the quays and beside the great +multitude of ships of all sizes and rigs and nations. In one, sailors +were singing at their work, in another there were men aloft, high over +my head, hanging to threads that seemed no thicker than a spider’s. +Though I had lived by the shore all my life, I seemed never to have been +near the sea till then. The smell of tar and salt was something new. +I saw the most wonderful figureheads, that had all been far over the +ocean. I saw, besides, many old sailors, with rings in their ears, and +whiskers curled in ringlets, and tarry pigtails, and their swaggering, +clumsy sea-walk; and if I had seen as many kings or archbishops I could +not have been more delighted. + +And I was going to sea myself, to sea in a schooner, with a piping +boatswain and pig-tailed singing seamen, to sea, bound for an unknown +island, and to seek for buried treasure! + +While I was still in this delightful dream, we came suddenly in front +of a large inn and met Squire Trelawney, all dressed out like a +sea-officer, in stout blue cloth, coming out of the door with a smile on +his face and a capital imitation of a sailor’s walk. + +“Here you are,” he cried, “and the doctor came last night from London. +Bravo! The ship’s company complete!” + +“Oh, sir,” cried I, “when do we sail?” + +“Sail!” says he. “We sail tomorrow!” + + + + +VIII +At the Sign of the Spy-glass + + +When I had done breakfasting the squire gave me a note addressed to John +Silver, at the sign of the Spy-glass, and told me I should easily +find the place by following the line of the docks and keeping a bright +lookout for a little tavern with a large brass telescope for sign. I +set off, overjoyed at this opportunity to see some more of the ships and +seamen, and picked my way among a great crowd of people and carts and +bales, for the dock was now at its busiest, until I found the tavern in +question. + +It was a bright enough little place of entertainment. The sign was +newly painted; the windows had neat red curtains; the floor was cleanly +sanded. There was a street on each side and an open door on both, which +made the large, low room pretty clear to see in, in spite of clouds of +tobacco smoke. + +The customers were mostly seafaring men, and they talked so loudly that +I hung at the door, almost afraid to enter. + +As I was waiting, a man came out of a side room, and at a glance I was +sure he must be Long John. His left leg was cut off close by the hip, +and under the left shoulder he carried a crutch, which he managed with +wonderful dexterity, hopping about upon it like a bird. He was very tall +and strong, with a face as big as a ham--plain and pale, but intelligent +and smiling. Indeed, he seemed in the most cheerful spirits, whistling +as he moved about among the tables, with a merry word or a slap on the +shoulder for the more favoured of his guests. + +Now, to tell you the truth, from the very first mention of Long John in +Squire Trelawney’s letter I had taken a fear in my mind that he might +prove to be the very one-legged sailor whom I had watched for so long at +the old Benbow. But one look at the man before me was enough. I had seen +the captain, and Black Dog, and the blind man, Pew, and I thought I knew +what a buccaneer was like--a very different creature, according to me, +from this clean and pleasant-tempered landlord. + +I plucked up courage at once, crossed the threshold, and walked right up +to the man where he stood, propped on his crutch, talking to a customer. + +“Mr. Silver, sir?” I asked, holding out the note. + +“Yes, my lad,” said he; “such is my name, to be sure. And who may you +be?” And then as he saw the squire’s letter, he seemed to me to give +something almost like a start. + +“Oh!” said he, quite loud, and offering his hand. “I see. You are our +new cabin-boy; pleased I am to see you.” + +And he took my hand in his large firm grasp. + +Just then one of the customers at the far side rose suddenly and made +for the door. It was close by him, and he was out in the street in a +moment. But his hurry had attracted my notice, and I recognized him at +glance. It was the tallow-faced man, wanting two fingers, who had come +first to the Admiral Benbow. + +“Oh,” I cried, “stop him! It’s Black Dog!” + +“I don’t care two coppers who he is,” cried Silver. “But he hasn’t paid +his score. Harry, run and catch him.” + +One of the others who was nearest the door leaped up and started in +pursuit. + +“If he were Admiral Hawke he shall pay his score,” cried Silver; and +then, relinquishing my hand, “Who did you say he was?” he asked. “Black +what?” + +“Dog, sir,” said I. “Has Mr. Trelawney not told you of the buccaneers? +He was one of them.” + +“So?” cried Silver. “In my house! Ben, run and help Harry. One of those +swabs, was he? Was that you drinking with him, Morgan? Step up here.” + +The man whom he called Morgan--an old, grey-haired, mahogany-faced +sailor--came forward pretty sheepishly, rolling his quid. + +“Now, Morgan,” said Long John very sternly, “you never clapped your eyes +on that Black--Black Dog before, did you, now?” + +“Not I, sir,” said Morgan with a salute. + +“You didn’t know his name, did you?” + +“No, sir.” + +“By the powers, Tom Morgan, it’s as good for you!” exclaimed the +landlord. “If you had been mixed up with the like of that, you would +never have put another foot in my house, you may lay to that. And what +was he saying to you?” + +“I don’t rightly know, sir,” answered Morgan. + +“Do you call that a head on your shoulders, or a blessed dead-eye?” + cried Long John. “Don’t rightly know, don’t you! Perhaps you don’t +happen to rightly know who you was speaking to, perhaps? Come, now, what +was he jawing--v’yages, cap’ns, ships? Pipe up! What was it?” + +“We was a-talkin’ of keel-hauling,” answered Morgan. + +“Keel-hauling, was you? And a mighty suitable thing, too, and you may +lay to that. Get back to your place for a lubber, Tom.” + +And then, as Morgan rolled back to his seat, Silver added to me in a +confidential whisper that was very flattering, as I thought, “He’s +quite an honest man, Tom Morgan, on’y stupid. And now,” he ran on again, +aloud, “let’s see--Black Dog? No, I don’t know the name, not I. Yet I +kind of think I’ve--yes, I’ve seen the swab. He used to come here with a +blind beggar, he used.” + +“That he did, you may be sure,” said I. “I knew that blind man too. His +name was Pew.” + +“It was!” cried Silver, now quite excited. “Pew! That were his name for +certain. Ah, he looked a shark, he did! If we run down this Black Dog, +now, there’ll be news for Cap’n Trelawney! Ben’s a good runner; few +seamen run better than Ben. He should run him down, hand over hand, by +the powers! He talked o’ keel-hauling, did he? I’LL keel-haul him!” + +All the time he was jerking out these phrases he was stumping up and +down the tavern on his crutch, slapping tables with his hand, and giving +such a show of excitement as would have convinced an Old Bailey judge +or a Bow Street runner. My suspicions had been thoroughly reawakened on +finding Black Dog at the Spy-glass, and I watched the cook narrowly. But +he was too deep, and too ready, and too clever for me, and by the time +the two men had come back out of breath and confessed that they had lost +the track in a crowd, and been scolded like thieves, I would have gone +bail for the innocence of Long John Silver. + +“See here, now, Hawkins,” said he, “here’s a blessed hard thing on a +man like me, now, ain’t it? There’s Cap’n Trelawney--what’s he to think? +Here I have this confounded son of a Dutchman sitting in my own house +drinking of my own rum! Here you comes and tells me of it plain; and +here I let him give us all the slip before my blessed deadlights! Now, +Hawkins, you do me justice with the cap’n. You’re a lad, you are, but +you’re as smart as paint. I see that when you first come in. Now, here +it is: What could I do, with this old timber I hobble on? When I was an +A B master mariner I’d have come up alongside of him, hand over hand, +and broached him to in a brace of old shakes, I would; but now--” + +And then, all of a sudden, he stopped, and his jaw dropped as though he +had remembered something. + +“The score!” he burst out. “Three goes o’ rum! Why, shiver my timbers, +if I hadn’t forgotten my score!” + +And falling on a bench, he laughed until the tears ran down his cheeks. +I could not help joining, and we laughed together, peal after peal, +until the tavern rang again. + +“Why, what a precious old sea-calf I am!” he said at last, wiping his +cheeks. “You and me should get on well, Hawkins, for I’ll take my davy +I should be rated ship’s boy. But come now, stand by to go about. This +won’t do. Dooty is dooty, messmates. I’ll put on my old cockerel hat, +and step along of you to Cap’n Trelawney, and report this here affair. +For mind you, it’s serious, young Hawkins; and neither you nor me’s come +out of it with what I should make so bold as to call credit. Nor you +neither, says you; not smart--none of the pair of us smart. But dash my +buttons! That was a good un about my score.” + +And he began to laugh again, and that so heartily, that though I did not +see the joke as he did, I was again obliged to join him in his mirth. + +On our little walk along the quays, he made himself the most interesting +companion, telling me about the different ships that we passed by, +their rig, tonnage, and nationality, explaining the work that was going +forward--how one was discharging, another taking in cargo, and a third +making ready for sea--and every now and then telling me some little +anecdote of ships or seamen or repeating a nautical phrase till I had +learned it perfectly. I began to see that here was one of the best of +possible shipmates. + +When we got to the inn, the squire and Dr. Livesey were seated together, +finishing a quart of ale with a toast in it, before they should go +aboard the schooner on a visit of inspection. + +Long John told the story from first to last, with a great deal of spirit +and the most perfect truth. “That was how it were, now, weren’t it, +Hawkins?” he would say, now and again, and I could always bear him +entirely out. + +The two gentlemen regretted that Black Dog had got away, but we all +agreed there was nothing to be done, and after he had been complimented, +Long John took up his crutch and departed. + +“All hands aboard by four this afternoon,” shouted the squire after him. + +“Aye, aye, sir,” cried the cook, in the passage. + +“Well, squire,” said Dr. Livesey, “I don’t put much faith in your +discoveries, as a general thing; but I will say this, John Silver suits +me.” + +“The man’s a perfect trump,” declared the squire. + +“And now,” added the doctor, “Jim may come on board with us, may he +not?” + +“To be sure he may,” says squire. “Take your hat, Hawkins, and we’ll see +the ship.” + + + + +IX +Powder and Arms + + +The Hispaniola lay some way out, and we went under the figureheads and +round the sterns of many other ships, and their cables sometimes grated +underneath our keel, and sometimes swung above us. At last, however, +we got alongside, and were met and saluted as we stepped aboard by the +mate, Mr. Arrow, a brown old sailor with earrings in his ears and a +squint. He and the squire were very thick and friendly, but I soon +observed that things were not the same between Mr. Trelawney and the +captain. + +This last was a sharp-looking man who seemed angry with everything on +board and was soon to tell us why, for we had hardly got down into the +cabin when a sailor followed us. + +“Captain Smollett, sir, axing to speak with you,” said he. + +“I am always at the captain’s orders. Show him in,” said the squire. + +The captain, who was close behind his messenger, entered at once and +shut the door behind him. + +“Well, Captain Smollett, what have you to say? All well, I hope; all +shipshape and seaworthy?” + +“Well, sir,” said the captain, “better speak plain, I believe, even at +the risk of offence. I don’t like this cruise; I don’t like the men; and +I don’t like my officer. That’s short and sweet.” + +“Perhaps, sir, you don’t like the ship?” inquired the squire, very +angry, as I could see. + +“I can’t speak as to that, sir, not having seen her tried,” said the +captain. “She seems a clever craft; more I can’t say.” + +“Possibly, sir, you may not like your employer, either?” says the +squire. + +But here Dr. Livesey cut in. + +“Stay a bit,” said he, “stay a bit. No use of such questions as that but +to produce ill feeling. The captain has said too much or he has said too +little, and I’m bound to say that I require an explanation of his words. +You don’t, you say, like this cruise. Now, why?” + +“I was engaged, sir, on what we call sealed orders, to sail this ship +for that gentleman where he should bid me,” said the captain. “So far +so good. But now I find that every man before the mast knows more than I +do. I don’t call that fair, now, do you?” + +“No,” said Dr. Livesey, “I don’t.” + +“Next,” said the captain, “I learn we are going after treasure--hear +it from my own hands, mind you. Now, treasure is ticklish work; I don’t +like treasure voyages on any account, and I don’t like them, above all, +when they are secret and when (begging your pardon, Mr. Trelawney) the +secret has been told to the parrot.” + +“Silver’s parrot?” asked the squire. + +“It’s a way of speaking,” said the captain. “Blabbed, I mean. It’s my +belief neither of you gentlemen know what you are about, but I’ll tell +you my way of it--life or death, and a close run.” + +“That is all clear, and, I dare say, true enough,” replied Dr. Livesey. +“We take the risk, but we are not so ignorant as you believe us. Next, +you say you don’t like the crew. Are they not good seamen?” + +“I don’t like them, sir,” returned Captain Smollett. “And I think I +should have had the choosing of my own hands, if you go to that.” + +“Perhaps you should,” replied the doctor. “My friend should, perhaps, +have taken you along with him; but the slight, if there be one, was +unintentional. And you don’t like Mr. Arrow?” + +“I don’t, sir. I believe he’s a good seaman, but he’s too free with +the crew to be a good officer. A mate should keep himself to +himself--shouldn’t drink with the men before the mast!” + +“Do you mean he drinks?” cried the squire. + +“No, sir,” replied the captain, “only that he’s too familiar.” + +“Well, now, and the short and long of it, captain?” asked the doctor. +“Tell us what you want.” + +“Well, gentlemen, are you determined to go on this cruise?” + +“Like iron,” answered the squire. + +“Very good,” said the captain. “Then, as you’ve heard me very patiently, +saying things that I could not prove, hear me a few words more. They are +putting the powder and the arms in the fore hold. Now, you have a good +place under the cabin; why not put them there?--first point. Then, you +are bringing four of your own people with you, and they tell me some of +them are to be berthed forward. Why not give them the berths here beside +the cabin?--second point.” + +“Any more?” asked Mr. Trelawney. + +“One more,” said the captain. “There’s been too much blabbing already.” + +“Far too much,” agreed the doctor. + +“I’ll tell you what I’ve heard myself,” continued Captain Smollett: +“that you have a map of an island, that there’s crosses on the map to +show where treasure is, and that the island lies--” And then he named +the latitude and longitude exactly. + +“I never told that,” cried the squire, “to a soul!” + +“The hands know it, sir,” returned the captain. + +“Livesey, that must have been you or Hawkins,” cried the squire. + +“It doesn’t much matter who it was,” replied the doctor. And I could +see that neither he nor the captain paid much regard to Mr. Trelawney’s +protestations. Neither did I, to be sure, he was so loose a talker; yet +in this case I believe he was really right and that nobody had told the +situation of the island. + +“Well, gentlemen,” continued the captain, “I don’t know who has this +map; but I make it a point, it shall be kept secret even from me and Mr. +Arrow. Otherwise I would ask you to let me resign.” + +“I see,” said the doctor. “You wish us to keep this matter dark and to +make a garrison of the stern part of the ship, manned with my friend’s +own people, and provided with all the arms and powder on board. In other +words, you fear a mutiny.” + +“Sir,” said Captain Smollett, “with no intention to take offence, I +deny your right to put words into my mouth. No captain, sir, would be +justified in going to sea at all if he had ground enough to say that. As +for Mr. Arrow, I believe him thoroughly honest; some of the men are the +same; all may be for what I know. But I am responsible for the ship’s +safety and the life of every man Jack aboard of her. I see things going, +as I think, not quite right. And I ask you to take certain precautions +or let me resign my berth. And that’s all.” + +“Captain Smollett,” began the doctor with a smile, “did ever you hear +the fable of the mountain and the mouse? You’ll excuse me, I dare say, +but you remind me of that fable. When you came in here, I’ll stake my +wig, you meant more than this.” + +“Doctor,” said the captain, “you are smart. When I came in here I meant +to get discharged. I had no thought that Mr. Trelawney would hear a +word.” + +“No more I would,” cried the squire. “Had Livesey not been here I should +have seen you to the deuce. As it is, I have heard you. I will do as you +desire, but I think the worse of you.” + +“That’s as you please, sir,” said the captain. “You’ll find I do my +duty.” + +And with that he took his leave. + +“Trelawney,” said the doctor, “contrary to all my notions, I believed +you have managed to get two honest men on board with you--that man and +John Silver.” + +“Silver, if you like,” cried the squire; “but as for that intolerable +humbug, I declare I think his conduct unmanly, unsailorly, and downright +un-English.” + +“Well,” says the doctor, “we shall see.” + +When we came on deck, the men had begun already to take out the arms and +powder, yo-ho-ing at their work, while the captain and Mr. Arrow stood +by superintending. + +The new arrangement was quite to my liking. The whole schooner had been +overhauled; six berths had been made astern out of what had been the +after-part of the main hold; and this set of cabins was only joined to +the galley and forecastle by a sparred passage on the port side. It had +been originally meant that the captain, Mr. Arrow, Hunter, Joyce, the +doctor, and the squire were to occupy these six berths. Now Redruth and +I were to get two of them and Mr. Arrow and the captain were to sleep +on deck in the companion, which had been enlarged on each side till you +might almost have called it a round-house. Very low it was still, of +course; but there was room to swing two hammocks, and even the mate +seemed pleased with the arrangement. Even he, perhaps, had been doubtful +as to the crew, but that is only guess, for as you shall hear, we had +not long the benefit of his opinion. + +We were all hard at work, changing the powder and the berths, when +the last man or two, and Long John along with them, came off in a +shore-boat. + +The cook came up the side like a monkey for cleverness, and as soon as +he saw what was doing, “So ho, mates!” says he. “What’s this?” + +“We’re a-changing of the powder, Jack,” answers one. + +“Why, by the powers,” cried Long John, “if we do, we’ll miss the morning +tide!” + +“My orders!” said the captain shortly. “You may go below, my man. Hands +will want supper.” + +“Aye, aye, sir,” answered the cook, and touching his forelock, he +disappeared at once in the direction of his galley. + +“That’s a good man, captain,” said the doctor. + +“Very likely, sir,” replied Captain Smollett. “Easy with that, +men--easy,” he ran on, to the fellows who were shifting the powder; and +then suddenly observing me examining the swivel we carried amidships, +a long brass nine, “Here you, ship’s boy,” he cried, “out o’ that! Off +with you to the cook and get some work.” + +And then as I was hurrying off I heard him say, quite loudly, to the +doctor, “I’ll have no favourites on my ship.” + +I assure you I was quite of the squire’s way of thinking, and hated the +captain deeply. + + + + +X +The Voyage + + +All that night we were in a great bustle getting things stowed in their +place, and boatfuls of the squire’s friends, Mr. Blandly and the like, +coming off to wish him a good voyage and a safe return. We never had +a night at the Admiral Benbow when I had half the work; and I was +dog-tired when, a little before dawn, the boatswain sounded his pipe +and the crew began to man the capstan-bars. I might have been twice +as weary, yet I would not have left the deck, all was so new and +interesting to me--the brief commands, the shrill note of the whistle, +the men bustling to their places in the glimmer of the ship’s lanterns. + +“Now, Barbecue, tip us a stave,” cried one voice. + +“The old one,” cried another. + +“Aye, aye, mates,” said Long John, who was standing by, with his crutch +under his arm, and at once broke out in the air and words I knew so +well: + +“Fifteen men on the dead man’s chest--” + +And then the whole crew bore chorus:-- + +“Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!” + +And at the third “Ho!” drove the bars before them with a will. + +Even at that exciting moment it carried me back to the old Admiral +Benbow in a second, and I seemed to hear the voice of the captain piping +in the chorus. But soon the anchor was short up; soon it was hanging +dripping at the bows; soon the sails began to draw, and the land and +shipping to flit by on either side; and before I could lie down to +snatch an hour of slumber the HISPANIOLA had begun her voyage to the +Isle of Treasure. + +I am not going to relate that voyage in detail. It was fairly +prosperous. The ship proved to be a good ship, the crew were capable +seamen, and the captain thoroughly understood his business. But before +we came the length of Treasure Island, two or three things had happened +which require to be known. + +Mr. Arrow, first of all, turned out even worse than the captain had +feared. He had no command among the men, and people did what they +pleased with him. But that was by no means the worst of it, for after a +day or two at sea he began to appear on deck with hazy eye, red cheeks, +stuttering tongue, and other marks of drunkenness. Time after time +he was ordered below in disgrace. Sometimes he fell and cut himself; +sometimes he lay all day long in his little bunk at one side of the +companion; sometimes for a day or two he would be almost sober and +attend to his work at least passably. + +In the meantime, we could never make out where he got the drink. That +was the ship’s mystery. Watch him as we pleased, we could do nothing to +solve it; and when we asked him to his face, he would only laugh if +he were drunk, and if he were sober deny solemnly that he ever tasted +anything but water. + +He was not only useless as an officer and a bad influence amongst +the men, but it was plain that at this rate he must soon kill himself +outright, so nobody was much surprised, nor very sorry, when one dark +night, with a head sea, he disappeared entirely and was seen no more. + +“Overboard!” said the captain. “Well, gentlemen, that saves the trouble +of putting him in irons.” + +But there we were, without a mate; and it was necessary, of course, to +advance one of the men. The boatswain, Job Anderson, was the likeliest +man aboard, and though he kept his old title, he served in a way as +mate. Mr. Trelawney had followed the sea, and his knowledge made him +very useful, for he often took a watch himself in easy weather. And the +coxswain, Israel Hands, was a careful, wily, old, experienced seaman who +could be trusted at a pinch with almost anything. + +He was a great confidant of Long John Silver, and so the mention of +his name leads me on to speak of our ship’s cook, Barbecue, as the men +called him. + +Aboard ship he carried his crutch by a lanyard round his neck, to have +both hands as free as possible. It was something to see him wedge the +foot of the crutch against a bulkhead, and propped against it, yielding +to every movement of the ship, get on with his cooking like someone safe +ashore. Still more strange was it to see him in the heaviest of weather +cross the deck. He had a line or two rigged up to help him across the +widest spaces--Long John’s earrings, they were called; and he would hand +himself from one place to another, now using the crutch, now trailing it +alongside by the lanyard, as quickly as another man could walk. Yet some +of the men who had sailed with him before expressed their pity to see +him so reduced. + +“He’s no common man, Barbecue,” said the coxswain to me. “He had good +schooling in his young days and can speak like a book when so minded; +and brave--a lion’s nothing alongside of Long John! I seen him grapple +four and knock their heads together--him unarmed.” + +All the crew respected and even obeyed him. He had a way of talking +to each and doing everybody some particular service. To me he was +unweariedly kind, and always glad to see me in the galley, which he kept +as clean as a new pin, the dishes hanging up burnished and his parrot in +a cage in one corner. + +“Come away, Hawkins,” he would say; “come and have a yarn with John. +Nobody more welcome than yourself, my son. Sit you down and hear the +news. Here’s Cap’n Flint--I calls my parrot Cap’n Flint, after the +famous buccaneer--here’s Cap’n Flint predicting success to our v’yage. +Wasn’t you, Cap’n?” + +And the parrot would say, with great rapidity, “Pieces of eight! Pieces +of eight! Pieces of eight!” till you wondered that it was not out of +breath, or till John threw his handkerchief over the cage. + +“Now, that bird,” he would say, “is, maybe, two hundred years +old, Hawkins--they live forever mostly; and if anybody’s seen more +wickedness, it must be the devil himself. She’s sailed with England, +the great Cap’n England, the pirate. She’s been at Madagascar, and at +Malabar, and Surinam, and Providence, and Portobello. She was at the +fishing up of the wrecked plate ships. It’s there she learned ‘Pieces +of eight,’ and little wonder; three hundred and fifty thousand of ’em, +Hawkins! She was at the boarding of the _Viceroy of the Indies_ out of +Goa, she was; and to look at her you would think she was a babby. But +you smelt powder--didn’t you, Cap’n?” + +“Stand by to go about,” the parrot would scream. + +“Ah, she’s a handsome craft, she is,” the cook would say, and give her +sugar from his pocket, and then the bird would peck at the bars and +swear straight on, passing belief for wickedness. “There,” John would +add, “you can’t touch pitch and not be mucked, lad. Here’s this poor old +innocent bird o’ mine swearing blue fire, and none the wiser, you may +lay to that. She would swear the same, in a manner of speaking, before +chaplain.” And John would touch his forelock with a solemn way he had +that made me think he was the best of men. + +In the meantime, the squire and Captain Smollett were still on pretty +distant terms with one another. The squire made no bones about the +matter; he despised the captain. The captain, on his part, never spoke +but when he was spoken to, and then sharp and short and dry, and not a +word wasted. He owned, when driven into a corner, that he seemed to have +been wrong about the crew, that some of them were as brisk as he wanted +to see and all had behaved fairly well. As for the ship, he had taken a +downright fancy to her. “She’ll lie a point nearer the wind than a man +has a right to expect of his own married wife, sir. But,” he would add, +“all I say is, we’re not home again, and I don’t like the cruise.” + +The squire, at this, would turn away and march up and down the deck, +chin in air. + +“A trifle more of that man,” he would say, “and I shall explode.” + +We had some heavy weather, which only proved the qualities of the +HISPANIOLA. Every man on board seemed well content, and they must have +been hard to please if they had been otherwise, for it is my belief +there was never a ship’s company so spoiled since Noah put to sea. +Double grog was going on the least excuse; there was duff on odd days, +as, for instance, if the squire heard it was any man’s birthday, and +always a barrel of apples standing broached in the waist for anyone to +help himself that had a fancy. + +“Never knew good come of it yet,” the captain said to Dr. Livesey. +“Spoil forecastle hands, make devils. That’s my belief.” + +But good did come of the apple barrel, as you shall hear, for if it had +not been for that, we should have had no note of warning and might all +have perished by the hand of treachery. + +This was how it came about. + +We had run up the trades to get the wind of the island we were after--I +am not allowed to be more plain--and now we were running down for it +with a bright lookout day and night. It was about the last day of our +outward voyage by the largest computation; some time that night, or at +latest before noon of the morrow, we should sight the Treasure Island. +We were heading S.S.W. and had a steady breeze abeam and a quiet sea. +The HISPANIOLA rolled steadily, dipping her bowsprit now and then with +a whiff of spray. All was drawing alow and aloft; everyone was in the +bravest spirits because we were now so near an end of the first part of +our adventure. + +Now, just after sundown, when all my work was over and I was on my way +to my berth, it occurred to me that I should like an apple. I ran on +deck. The watch was all forward looking out for the island. The man at +the helm was watching the luff of the sail and whistling away gently +to himself, and that was the only sound excepting the swish of the sea +against the bows and around the sides of the ship. + +In I got bodily into the apple barrel, and found there was scarce an +apple left; but sitting down there in the dark, what with the sound of +the waters and the rocking movement of the ship, I had either fallen +asleep or was on the point of doing so when a heavy man sat down with +rather a clash close by. The barrel shook as he leaned his shoulders +against it, and I was just about to jump up when the man began to speak. +It was Silver’s voice, and before I had heard a dozen words, I would +not have shown myself for all the world, but lay there, trembling and +listening, in the extreme of fear and curiosity, for from these dozen +words I understood that the lives of all the honest men aboard depended +upon me alone. + + + + +XI +What I Heard in the Apple-Barrel + + +“No, not I,” said Silver. “Flint was cap’n; I was quartermaster, along +of my timber leg. The same broadside I lost my leg, old Pew lost his +deadlights. It was a master surgeon, him that ampytated me--out of +college and all--Latin by the bucket, and what not; but he was hanged +like a dog, and sun-dried like the rest, at Corso Castle. That was +Roberts’ men, that was, and comed of changing names to their +ships--ROYAL FORTUNE and so on. Now, what a ship was christened, so let +her stay, I says. So it was with the CASSANDRA, as brought us all safe +home from Malabar, after England took the _Viceroy of the Indies;_ so +it was with the old WALRUS, Flint’s old ship, as I’ve seen amuck with +the red blood and fit to sink with gold.” + +“Ah!” cried another voice, that of the youngest hand on board, and +evidently full of admiration. “He was the flower of the flock, was +Flint!” + +“Davis was a man too, by all accounts,” said Silver. “I never sailed +along of him; first with England, then with Flint, that’s my story; +and now here on my own account, in a manner of speaking. I laid by nine +hundred safe, from England, and two thousand after Flint. That ain’t bad +for a man before the mast--all safe in bank. ’Tain’t earning now, it’s +saving does it, you may lay to that. Where’s all England’s men now? I +dunno. Where’s Flint’s? Why, most on ’em aboard here, and glad to get +the duff--been begging before that, some on ’em. Old Pew, as had lost +his sight, and might have thought shame, spends twelve hundred pound in +a year, like a lord in Parliament. Where is he now? Well, he’s dead now +and under hatches; but for two year before that, shiver my timbers, +the man was starving! He begged, and he stole, and he cut throats, and +starved at that, by the powers!” + +“Well, it ain’t much use, after all,” said the young seaman. + +“’Tain’t much use for fools, you may lay to it--that, nor nothing,” + cried Silver. “But now, you look here: you’re young, you are, but you’re +as smart as paint. I see that when I set my eyes on you, and I’ll talk +to you like a man.” + +You may imagine how I felt when I heard this abominable old rogue +addressing another in the very same words of flattery as he had used +to myself. I think, if I had been able, that I would have killed +him through the barrel. Meantime, he ran on, little supposing he was +overheard. + +“Here it is about gentlemen of fortune. They lives rough, and they risk +swinging, but they eat and drink like fighting-cocks, and when a cruise +is done, why, it’s hundreds of pounds instead of hundreds of farthings +in their pockets. Now, the most goes for rum and a good fling, and to +sea again in their shirts. But that’s not the course I lay. I puts it +all away, some here, some there, and none too much anywheres, by reason +of suspicion. I’m fifty, mark you; once back from this cruise, I set up +gentleman in earnest. Time enough too, says you. Ah, but I’ve lived easy +in the meantime, never denied myself o’ nothing heart desires, and slep’ +soft and ate dainty all my days but when at sea. And how did I begin? +Before the mast, like you!” + +“Well,” said the other, “but all the other money’s gone now, ain’t it? +You daren’t show face in Bristol after this.” + +“Why, where might you suppose it was?” asked Silver derisively. + +“At Bristol, in banks and places,” answered his companion. + +“It were,” said the cook; “it were when we weighed anchor. But my old +missis has it all by now. And the Spy-glass is sold, lease and goodwill +and rigging; and the old girl’s off to meet me. I would tell you where, +for I trust you, but it’d make jealousy among the mates.” + +“And can you trust your missis?” asked the other. + +“Gentlemen of fortune,” returned the cook, “usually trusts little among +themselves, and right they are, you may lay to it. But I have a way with +me, I have. When a mate brings a slip on his cable--one as knows me, I +mean--it won’t be in the same world with old John. There was some that +was feared of Pew, and some that was feared of Flint; but Flint his own +self was feared of me. Feared he was, and proud. They was the roughest +crew afloat, was Flint’s; the devil himself would have been feared to go +to sea with them. Well now, I tell you, I’m not a boasting man, and you +seen yourself how easy I keep company, but when I was quartermaster, +LAMBS wasn’t the word for Flint’s old buccaneers. Ah, you may be sure of +yourself in old John’s ship.” + +“Well, I tell you now,” replied the lad, “I didn’t half a quarter like +the job till I had this talk with you, John; but there’s my hand on it +now.” + +“And a brave lad you were, and smart too,” answered Silver, shaking +hands so heartily that all the barrel shook, “and a finer figurehead for +a gentleman of fortune I never clapped my eyes on.” + +By this time I had begun to understand the meaning of their terms. By a +“gentleman of fortune” they plainly meant neither more nor less than a +common pirate, and the little scene that I had overheard was the last +act in the corruption of one of the honest hands--perhaps of the last +one left aboard. But on this point I was soon to be relieved, for Silver +giving a little whistle, a third man strolled up and sat down by the +party. + +“Dick’s square,” said Silver. + +“Oh, I know’d Dick was square,” returned the voice of the coxswain, +Israel Hands. “He’s no fool, is Dick.” And he turned his quid and spat. +“But look here,” he went on, “here’s what I want to know, Barbecue: how +long are we a-going to stand off and on like a blessed bumboat? I’ve had +a’most enough o’ Cap’n Smollett; he’s hazed me long enough, by thunder! +I want to go into that cabin, I do. I want their pickles and wines, and +that.” + +“Israel,” said Silver, “your head ain’t much account, nor ever was. But +you’re able to hear, I reckon; leastways, your ears is big enough. +Now, here’s what I say: you’ll berth forward, and you’ll live hard, and +you’ll speak soft, and you’ll keep sober till I give the word; and you +may lay to that, my son.” + +“Well, I don’t say no, do I?” growled the coxswain. “What I say is, +when? That’s what I say.” + +“When! By the powers!” cried Silver. “Well now, if you want to know, +I’ll tell you when. The last moment I can manage, and that’s when. +Here’s a first-rate seaman, Cap’n Smollett, sails the blessed ship for +us. Here’s this squire and doctor with a map and such--I don’t know +where it is, do I? No more do you, says you. Well then, I mean this +squire and doctor shall find the stuff, and help us to get it aboard, +by the powers. Then we’ll see. If I was sure of you all, sons of double +Dutchmen, I’d have Cap’n Smollett navigate us half-way back again before +I struck.” + +“Why, we’re all seamen aboard here, I should think,” said the lad Dick. + +“We’re all forecastle hands, you mean,” snapped Silver. “We can steer +a course, but who’s to set one? That’s what all you gentlemen split on, +first and last. If I had my way, I’d have Cap’n Smollett work us back +into the trades at least; then we’d have no blessed miscalculations and +a spoonful of water a day. But I know the sort you are. I’ll finish with +’em at the island, as soon’s the blunt’s on board, and a pity it is. But +you’re never happy till you’re drunk. Split my sides, I’ve a sick heart +to sail with the likes of you!” + +“Easy all, Long John,” cried Israel. “Who’s a-crossin’ of you?” + +“Why, how many tall ships, think ye, now, have I seen laid aboard? And +how many brisk lads drying in the sun at Execution Dock?” cried Silver. +“And all for this same hurry and hurry and hurry. You hear me? I seen +a thing or two at sea, I have. If you would on’y lay your course, and a +p’int to windward, you would ride in carriages, you would. But not you! +I know you. You’ll have your mouthful of rum tomorrow, and go hang.” + +“Everybody knowed you was a kind of a chapling, John; but there’s others +as could hand and steer as well as you,” said Israel. “They liked a bit +o’ fun, they did. They wasn’t so high and dry, nohow, but took their +fling, like jolly companions every one.” + +“So?” says Silver. “Well, and where are they now? Pew was that sort, +and he died a beggar-man. Flint was, and he died of rum at Savannah. Ah, +they was a sweet crew, they was! On’y, where are they?” + +“But,” asked Dick, “when we do lay ’em athwart, what are we to do with +’em, anyhow?” + +“There’s the man for me!” cried the cook admiringly. “That’s what I call +business. Well, what would you think? Put ’em ashore like maroons? That +would have been England’s way. Or cut ’em down like that much pork? That +would have been Flint’s, or Billy Bones’s.” + +“Billy was the man for that,” said Israel. “‘Dead men don’t bite,’ says +he. Well, he’s dead now hisself; he knows the long and short on it now; +and if ever a rough hand come to port, it was Billy.” + +“Right you are,” said Silver; “rough and ready. But mark you here, +I’m an easy man--I’m quite the gentleman, says you; but this time it’s +serious. Dooty is dooty, mates. I give my vote--death. When I’m in +Parlyment and riding in my coach, I don’t want none of these sea-lawyers +in the cabin a-coming home, unlooked for, like the devil at prayers. +Wait is what I say; but when the time comes, why, let her rip!” + +“John,” cries the coxswain, “you’re a man!” + +“You’ll say so, Israel when you see,” said Silver. “Only one thing I +claim--I claim Trelawney. I’ll wring his calf’s head off his body with +these hands, Dick!” he added, breaking off. “You just jump up, like a +sweet lad, and get me an apple, to wet my pipe like.” + +You may fancy the terror I was in! I should have leaped out and run for +it if I had found the strength, but my limbs and heart alike misgave me. +I heard Dick begin to rise, and then someone seemingly stopped him, and +the voice of Hands exclaimed, “Oh, stow that! Don’t you get sucking of +that bilge, John. Let’s have a go of the rum.” + +“Dick,” said Silver, “I trust you. I’ve a gauge on the keg, mind. +There’s the key; you fill a pannikin and bring it up.” + +Terrified as I was, I could not help thinking to myself that this must +have been how Mr. Arrow got the strong waters that destroyed him. + +Dick was gone but a little while, and during his absence Israel spoke +straight on in the cook’s ear. It was but a word or two that I could +catch, and yet I gathered some important news, for besides other scraps +that tended to the same purpose, this whole clause was audible: “Not +another man of them’ll jine.” Hence there were still faithful men on +board. + +When Dick returned, one after another of the trio took the pannikin and +drank--one “To luck,” another with a “Here’s to old Flint,” and Silver +himself saying, in a kind of song, “Here’s to ourselves, and hold your +luff, plenty of prizes and plenty of duff.” + +Just then a sort of brightness fell upon me in the barrel, and looking +up, I found the moon had risen and was silvering the mizzen-top and +shining white on the luff of the fore-sail; and almost at the same time +the voice of the lookout shouted, “Land ho!” + + + + +XII +Council of War + + +There was a great rush of feet across the deck. I could hear people +tumbling up from the cabin and the forecastle, and slipping in an +instant outside my barrel, I dived behind the fore-sail, made a double +towards the stern, and came out upon the open deck in time to join +Hunter and Dr. Livesey in the rush for the weather bow. + +There all hands were already congregated. A belt of fog had lifted +almost simultaneously with the appearance of the moon. Away to the +south-west of us we saw two low hills, about a couple of miles apart, +and rising behind one of them a third and higher hill, whose peak was +still buried in the fog. All three seemed sharp and conical in figure. + +So much I saw, almost in a dream, for I had not yet recovered from my +horrid fear of a minute or two before. And then I heard the voice of +Captain Smollett issuing orders. The HISPANIOLA was laid a couple of +points nearer the wind and now sailed a course that would just clear the +island on the east. + +“And now, men,” said the captain, when all was sheeted home, “has any +one of you ever seen that land ahead?” + +“I have, sir,” said Silver. “I’ve watered there with a trader I was cook +in.” + +“The anchorage is on the south, behind an islet, I fancy?” asked the +captain. + +“Yes, sir; Skeleton Island they calls it. It were a main place for +pirates once, and a hand we had on board knowed all their names for it. +That hill to the nor’ard they calls the Foremast Hill; there are three +hills in a row running south’ard--fore, main, and mizzen, sir. But the +main--that’s the big un, with the cloud on it--they usually calls +the Spy-glass, by reason of a lookout they kept when they was in the +anchorage cleaning, for it’s there they cleaned their ships, sir, asking +your pardon.” + +“I have a chart here,” says Captain Smollett. “See if that’s the place.” + +Long John’s eyes burned in his head as he took the chart, but by the +fresh look of the paper I knew he was doomed to disappointment. This +was not the map we found in Billy Bones’s chest, but an accurate copy, +complete in all things--names and heights and soundings--with the single +exception of the red crosses and the written notes. Sharp as must have +been his annoyance, Silver had the strength of mind to hide it. + +“Yes, sir,” said he, “this is the spot, to be sure, and very prettily +drawed out. Who might have done that, I wonder? The pirates were too +ignorant, I reckon. Aye, here it is: ‘Capt. Kidd’s Anchorage’--just +the name my shipmate called it. There’s a strong current runs along the +south, and then away nor’ard up the west coast. Right you was, sir,” + says he, “to haul your wind and keep the weather of the island. +Leastways, if such was your intention as to enter and careen, and there +ain’t no better place for that in these waters.” + +“Thank you, my man,” says Captain Smollett. “I’ll ask you later on to +give us a help. You may go.” + +I was surprised at the coolness with which John avowed his knowledge +of the island, and I own I was half-frightened when I saw him drawing +nearer to myself. He did not know, to be sure, that I had overheard his +council from the apple barrel, and yet I had by this time taken such a +horror of his cruelty, duplicity, and power that I could scarce conceal +a shudder when he laid his hand upon my arm. + +“Ah,” says he, “this here is a sweet spot, this island--a sweet spot for +a lad to get ashore on. You’ll bathe, and you’ll climb trees, and you’ll +hunt goats, you will; and you’ll get aloft on them hills like a goat +yourself. Why, it makes me young again. I was going to forget my timber +leg, I was. It’s a pleasant thing to be young and have ten toes, and you +may lay to that. When you want to go a bit of exploring, you just ask +old John, and he’ll put up a snack for you to take along.” + +And clapping me in the friendliest way upon the shoulder, he hobbled off +forward and went below. + +Captain Smollett, the squire, and Dr. Livesey were talking together on +the quarter-deck, and anxious as I was to tell them my story, I durst +not interrupt them openly. While I was still casting about in my +thoughts to find some probable excuse, Dr. Livesey called me to his +side. He had left his pipe below, and being a slave to tobacco, had +meant that I should fetch it; but as soon as I was near enough to speak +and not to be overheard, I broke immediately, “Doctor, let me speak. Get +the captain and squire down to the cabin, and then make some pretence to +send for me. I have terrible news.” + +The doctor changed countenance a little, but next moment he was master +of himself. + +“Thank you, Jim,” said he quite loudly, “that was all I wanted to know,” + as if he had asked me a question. + +And with that he turned on his heel and rejoined the other two. They +spoke together for a little, and though none of them started, or raised +his voice, or so much as whistled, it was plain enough that Dr. Livesey +had communicated my request, for the next thing that I heard was the +captain giving an order to Job Anderson, and all hands were piped on +deck. + +“My lads,” said Captain Smollett, “I’ve a word to say to you. This +land that we have sighted is the place we have been sailing for. Mr. +Trelawney, being a very open-handed gentleman, as we all know, has just +asked me a word or two, and as I was able to tell him that every man on +board had done his duty, alow and aloft, as I never ask to see it done +better, why, he and I and the doctor are going below to the cabin to +drink YOUR health and luck, and you’ll have grog served out for you to +drink OUR health and luck. I’ll tell you what I think of this: I think +it handsome. And if you think as I do, you’ll give a good sea-cheer for +the gentleman that does it.” + +The cheer followed--that was a matter of course; but it rang out so full +and hearty that I confess I could hardly believe these same men were +plotting for our blood. + +“One more cheer for Cap’n Smollett,” cried Long John when the first had +subsided. + +And this also was given with a will. + +On the top of that the three gentlemen went below, and not long after, +word was sent forward that Jim Hawkins was wanted in the cabin. + +I found them all three seated round the table, a bottle of Spanish wine +and some raisins before them, and the doctor smoking away, with his wig +on his lap, and that, I knew, was a sign that he was agitated. The stern +window was open, for it was a warm night, and you could see the moon +shining behind on the ship’s wake. + +“Now, Hawkins,” said the squire, “you have something to say. Speak up.” + +I did as I was bid, and as short as I could make it, told the whole +details of Silver’s conversation. Nobody interrupted me till I was done, +nor did any one of the three of them make so much as a movement, but +they kept their eyes upon my face from first to last. + +“Jim,” said Dr. Livesey, “take a seat.” + +And they made me sit down at table beside them, poured me out a glass of +wine, filled my hands with raisins, and all three, one after the other, +and each with a bow, drank my good health, and their service to me, for +my luck and courage. + +“Now, captain,” said the squire, “you were right, and I was wrong. I own +myself an ass, and I await your orders.” + +“No more an ass than I, sir,” returned the captain. “I never heard of a +crew that meant to mutiny but what showed signs before, for any man that +had an eye in his head to see the mischief and take steps according. But +this crew,” he added, “beats me.” + +“Captain,” said the doctor, “with your permission, that��s Silver. A very +remarkable man.” + +“He’d look remarkably well from a yard-arm, sir,” returned the captain. +“But this is talk; this don’t lead to anything. I see three or four +points, and with Mr. Trelawney’s permission, I’ll name them.” + +“You, sir, are the captain. It is for you to speak,” says Mr. Trelawney +grandly. + +“First point,” began Mr. Smollett. “We must go on, because we can’t turn +back. If I gave the word to go about, they would rise at once. Second +point, we have time before us--at least until this treasure’s found. +Third point, there are faithful hands. Now, sir, it’s got to come +to blows sooner or later, and what I propose is to take time by the +forelock, as the saying is, and come to blows some fine day when they +least expect it. We can count, I take it, on your own home servants, Mr. +Trelawney?” + +“As upon myself,” declared the squire. + +“Three,” reckoned the captain; “ourselves make seven, counting Hawkins +here. Now, about the honest hands?” + +“Most likely Trelawney’s own men,” said the doctor; “those he had picked +up for himself before he lit on Silver.” + +“Nay,” replied the squire. “Hands was one of mine.” + +“I did think I could have trusted Hands,” added the captain. + +“And to think that they’re all Englishmen!” broke out the squire. “Sir, +I could find it in my heart to blow the ship up.” + +“Well, gentlemen,” said the captain, “the best that I can say is not +much. We must lay to, if you please, and keep a bright lookout. It’s +trying on a man, I know. It would be pleasanter to come to blows. But +there’s no help for it till we know our men. Lay to, and whistle for a +wind, that’s my view.” + +“Jim here,” said the doctor, “can help us more than anyone. The men are +not shy with him, and Jim is a noticing lad.” + +“Hawkins, I put prodigious faith in you,” added the squire. + +I began to feel pretty desperate at this, for I felt altogether +helpless; and yet, by an odd train of circumstances, it was indeed +through me that safety came. In the meantime, talk as we pleased, there +were only seven out of the twenty-six on whom we knew we could rely; and +out of these seven one was a boy, so that the grown men on our side were +six to their nineteen. + + + + +<|endoftext|>PART THREE--My Shore Adventure + + + + +XIII +How I Began My Shore Adventure + + +The appearance of the island when I came on deck next morning was +altogether changed. Although the breeze had now utterly ceased, we had +made a great deal of way during the night and were now lying becalmed +about half a mile to the south-east of the low eastern coast. +Grey-coloured woods covered a large part of the surface. This even tint +was indeed broken up by streaks of yellow sand-break in the lower lands, +and by many tall trees of the pine family, out-topping the others--some +singly, some in clumps; but the general colouring was uniform and sad. +The hills ran up clear above the vegetation in spires of naked rock. +All were strangely shaped, and the Spy-glass, which was by three or four +hundred feet the tallest on the island, was likewise the strangest in +configuration, running up sheer from almost every side and then suddenly +cut off at the top like a pedestal to put a statue on. + +The HISPANIOLA was rolling scuppers under in the ocean swell. The booms +were tearing at the blocks, the rudder was banging to and fro, and the +whole ship creaking, groaning, and jumping like a manufactory. I had +to cling tight to the backstay, and the world turned giddily before my +eyes, for though I was a good enough sailor when there was way on, this +standing still and being rolled about like a bottle was a thing I never +learned to stand without a qualm or so, above all in the morning, on an +empty stomach. + +Perhaps it was this--perhaps it was the look of the island, with its +grey, melancholy woods, and wild stone spires, and the surf that we +could both see and hear foaming and thundering on the steep beach--at +least, although the sun shone bright and hot, and the shore birds were +fishing and crying all around us, and you would have thought anyone +would have been glad to get to land after being so long at sea, my heart +sank, as the saying is, into my boots; and from the first look onward, I +hated the very thought of Treasure Island. + +We had a dreary morning’s work before us, for there was no sign of any +wind, and the boats had to be got out and manned, and the ship warped +three or four miles round the corner of the island and up the narrow +passage to the haven behind Skeleton Island. I volunteered for one of +the boats, where I had, of course, no business. The heat was sweltering, +and the men grumbled fiercely over their work. Anderson was in command +of my boat, and instead of keeping the crew in order, he grumbled as +loud as the worst. + +“Well,” he said with an oath, “it’s not forever.” + +I thought this was a very bad sign, for up to that day the men had gone +briskly and willingly about their business; but the very sight of the +island had relaxed the cords of discipline. + +All the way in, Long John stood by the steersman and conned the ship. +He knew the passage like the palm of his hand, and though the man in the +chains got everywhere more water than was down in the chart, John never +hesitated once. + +“There’s a strong scour with the ebb,” he said, “and this here passage +has been dug out, in a manner of speaking, with a spade.” + +We brought up just where the anchor was in the chart, about a third of +a mile from each shore, the mainland on one side and Skeleton Island on +the other. The bottom was clean sand. The plunge of our anchor sent up +clouds of birds wheeling and crying over the woods, but in less than a +minute they were down again and all was once more silent. + +The place was entirely land-locked, buried in woods, the trees coming +right down to high-water mark, the shores mostly flat, and the hilltops +standing round at a distance in a sort of amphitheatre, one here, one +there. Two little rivers, or rather two swamps, emptied out into this +pond, as you might call it; and the foliage round that part of the shore +had a kind of poisonous brightness. From the ship we could see nothing +of the house or stockade, for they were quite buried among trees; and if +it had not been for the chart on the companion, we might have been the +first that had ever anchored there since the island arose out of the +seas. + +There was not a breath of air moving, nor a sound but that of the +surf booming half a mile away along the beaches and against the rocks +outside. A peculiar stagnant smell hung over the anchorage--a smell of +sodden leaves and rotting tree trunks. I observed the doctor sniffing +and sniffing, like someone tasting a bad egg. + +“I don’t know about treasure,” he said, “but I’ll stake my wig there’s +fever here.” + +If the conduct of the men had been alarming in the boat, it became truly +threatening when they had come aboard. They lay about the deck growling +together in talk. The slightest order was received with a black look and +grudgingly and carelessly obeyed. Even the honest hands must have caught +the infection, for there was not one man aboard to mend another. Mutiny, +it was plain, hung over us like a thunder-cloud. + +And it was not only we of the cabin party who perceived the danger. Long +John was hard at work going from group to group, spending himself in +good advice, and as for example no man could have shown a better. He +fairly outstripped himself in willingness and civility; he was all +smiles to everyone. If an order were given, John would be on his crutch +in an instant, with the cheeriest “Aye, aye, sir!” in the world; and +when there was nothing else to do, he kept up one song after another, as +if to conceal the discontent of the rest. + +Of all the gloomy features of that gloomy afternoon, this obvious +anxiety on the part of Long John appeared the worst. + +We held a council in the cabin. + +“Sir,” said the captain, “if I risk another order, the whole ship’ll +come about our ears by the run. You see, sir, here it is. I get a rough +answer, do I not? Well, if I speak back, pikes will be going in two +shakes; if I don’t, Silver will see there’s something under that, and +the game’s up. Now, we’ve only one man to rely on.” + +“And who is that?” asked the squire. + +“Silver, sir,” returned the captain; “he’s as anxious as you and I to +smother things up. This is a tiff; he’d soon talk ’em out of it if he +had the chance, and what I propose to do is to give him the chance. +Let’s allow the men an afternoon ashore. If they all go, why we’ll fight +the ship. If they none of them go, well then, we hold the cabin, and God +defend the right. If some go, you mark my words, sir, Silver’ll bring +’em aboard again as mild as lambs.” + +It was so decided; loaded pistols were served out to all the sure men; +Hunter, Joyce, and Redruth were taken into our confidence and received +the news with less surprise and a better spirit than we had looked for, +and then the captain went on deck and addressed the crew. + +“My lads,” said he, “we’ve had a hot day and are all tired and out of +sorts. A turn ashore’ll hurt nobody--the boats are still in the water; +you can take the gigs, and as many as please may go ashore for the +afternoon. I’ll fire a gun half an hour before sundown.” + +I believe the silly fellows must have thought they would break their +shins over treasure as soon as they were landed, for they all came out +of their sulks in a moment and gave a cheer that started the echo in a +faraway hill and sent the birds once more flying and squalling round the +anchorage. + +The captain was too bright to be in the way. He whipped out of sight +in a moment, leaving Silver to arrange the party, and I fancy it was as +well he did so. Had he been on deck, he could no longer so much as +have pretended not to understand the situation. It was as plain as day. +Silver was the captain, and a mighty rebellious crew he had of it. The +honest hands--and I was soon to see it proved that there were such on +board--must have been very stupid fellows. Or rather, I suppose the +truth was this, that all hands were disaffected by the example of the +ringleaders--only some more, some less; and a few, being good fellows in +the main, could neither be led nor driven any further. It is one thing +to be idle and skulk and quite another to take a ship and murder a +number of innocent men. + +At last, however, the party was made up. Six fellows were to stay on +board, and the remaining thirteen, including Silver, began to embark. + +Then it was that there came into my head the first of the mad notions +that contributed so much to save our lives. If six men were left by +Silver, it was plain our party could not take and fight the ship; and +since only six were left, it was equally plain that the cabin party +had no present need of my assistance. It occurred to me at once to go +ashore. In a jiffy I had slipped over the side and curled up in the +fore-sheets of the nearest boat, and almost at the same moment she +shoved off. + +No one took notice of me, only the bow oar saying, “Is that you, Jim? +Keep your head down.” But Silver, from the other boat, looked sharply +over and called out to know if that were me; and from that moment I +began to regret what I had done. + +The crews raced for the beach, but the boat I was in, having some start +and being at once the lighter and the better manned, shot far ahead of +her consort, and the bow had struck among the shore-side trees and I +had caught a branch and swung myself out and plunged into the nearest +thicket while Silver and the rest were still a hundred yards behind. + +“Jim, Jim!” I heard him shouting. + +But you may suppose I paid no heed; jumping, ducking, and breaking +through, I ran straight before my nose till I could run no longer. + + + + +XIV +The First Blow + + +I was so pleased at having given the slip to Long John that I began to +enjoy myself and look around me with some interest on the strange land +that I was in. + +I had crossed a marshy tract full of willows, bulrushes, and odd, +outlandish, swampy trees; and I had now come out upon the skirts of an +open piece of undulating, sandy country, about a mile long, dotted with +a few pines and a great number of contorted trees, not unlike the oak +in growth, but pale in the foliage, like willows. On the far side of +the open stood one of the hills, with two quaint, craggy peaks shining +vividly in the sun. + +I now felt for the first time the joy of exploration. The isle was +uninhabited; my shipmates I had left behind, and nothing lived in front +of me but dumb brutes and fowls. I turned hither and thither among the +trees. Here and there were flowering plants, unknown to me; here and +there I saw snakes, and one raised his head from a ledge of rock and +hissed at me with a noise not unlike the spinning of a top. Little did +I suppose that he was a deadly enemy and that the noise was the famous +rattle. + +Then I came to a long thicket of these oaklike trees--live, or +evergreen, oaks, I heard afterwards they should be called--which grew +low along the sand like brambles, the boughs curiously twisted, the +foliage compact, like thatch. The thicket stretched down from the top of +one of the sandy knolls, spreading and growing taller as it went, until +it reached the margin of the broad, reedy fen, through which the nearest +of the little rivers soaked its way into the anchorage. The marsh was +steaming in the strong sun, and the outline of the Spy-glass trembled +through the haze. + +All at once there began to go a sort of bustle among the bulrushes; +a wild duck flew up with a quack, another followed, and soon over the +whole surface of the marsh a great cloud of birds hung screaming and +circling in the air. I judged at once that some of my shipmates must be +drawing near along the borders of the fen. Nor was I deceived, for soon +I heard the very distant and low tones of a human voice, which, as I +continued to give ear, grew steadily louder and nearer. + +This put me in a great fear, and I crawled under cover of the nearest +live-oak and squatted there, hearkening, as silent as a mouse. + +Another voice answered, and then the first voice, which I now recognized +to be Silver’s, once more took up the story and ran on for a long while +in a stream, only now and again interrupted by the other. By the sound +they must have been talking earnestly, and almost fiercely; but no +distinct word came to my hearing. + +At last the speakers seemed to have paused and perhaps to have sat down, +for not only did they cease to draw any nearer, but the birds themselves +began to grow more quiet and to settle again to their places in the +swamp. + +And now I began to feel that I was neglecting my business, that since +I had been so foolhardy as to come ashore with these desperadoes, the +least I could do was to overhear them at their councils, and that my +plain and obvious duty was to draw as close as I could manage, under the +favourable ambush of the crouching trees. + +I could tell the direction of the speakers pretty exactly, not only by +the sound of their voices but by the behaviour of the few birds that +still hung in alarm above the heads of the intruders. + +Crawling on all fours, I made steadily but slowly towards them, till at +last, raising my head to an aperture among the leaves, I could see clear +down into a little green dell beside the marsh, and closely set about +with trees, where Long John Silver and another of the crew stood face to +face in conversation. + +The sun beat full upon them. Silver had thrown his hat beside him on the +ground, and his great, smooth, blond face, all shining with heat, was +lifted to the other man’s in a kind of appeal. + +“Mate,” he was saying, “it’s because I thinks gold dust of you--gold +dust, and you may lay to that! If I hadn’t took to you like pitch, do +you think I’d have been here a-warning of you? All’s up--you can’t make +nor mend; it’s to save your neck that I’m a-speaking, and if one of the +wild uns knew it, where’d I be, Tom--now, tell me, where’d I be?” + +“Silver,” said the other man--and I observed he was not only red in the +face, but spoke as hoarse as a crow, and his voice shook too, like a +taut rope--“Silver,” says he, “you’re old, and you’re honest, or has the +name for it; and you’ve money too, which lots of poor sailors hasn’t; +and you’re brave, or I’m mistook. And will you tell me you’ll let +yourself be led away with that kind of a mess of swabs? Not you! As sure +as God sees me, I’d sooner lose my hand. If I turn agin my dooty--” + +And then all of a sudden he was interrupted by a noise. I had found +one of the honest hands--well, here, at that same moment, came news of +another. Far away out in the marsh there arose, all of a sudden, a sound +like the cry of anger, then another on the back of it; and then one +horrid, long-drawn scream. The rocks of the Spy-glass re-echoed it a +score of times; the whole troop of marsh-birds rose again, darkening +heaven, with a simultaneous whirr; and long after that death yell was +still ringing in my brain, silence had re-established its empire, and +only the rustle of the redescending birds and the boom of the distant +surges disturbed the languor of the afternoon. + +Tom had leaped at the sound, like a horse at the spur, but Silver had +not winked an eye. He stood where he was, resting lightly on his crutch, +watching his companion like a snake about to spring. + +“John!” said the sailor, stretching out his hand. + +“Hands off!” cried Silver, leaping back a yard, as it seemed to me, with +the speed and security of a trained gymnast. + +“Hands off, if you like, John Silver,” said the other. “It’s a black +conscience that can make you feared of me. But in heaven’s name, tell +me, what was that?” + +“That?” returned Silver, smiling away, but warier than ever, his eye +a mere pin-point in his big face, but gleaming like a crumb of glass. +“That? Oh, I reckon that’ll be Alan.” + +And at this point Tom flashed out like a hero. + +“Alan!” he cried. “Then rest his soul for a true seaman! And as for you, +John Silver, long you’ve been a mate of mine, but you’re mate of mine +no more. If I die like a dog, I’ll die in my dooty. You’ve killed Alan, +have you? Kill me too, if you can. But I defies you.” + +And with that, this brave fellow turned his back directly on the cook +and set off walking for the beach. But he was not destined to go far. +With a cry John seized the branch of a tree, whipped the crutch out of +his armpit, and sent that uncouth missile hurtling through the air. +It struck poor Tom, point foremost, and with stunning violence, right +between the shoulders in the middle of his back. His hands flew up, he +gave a sort of gasp, and fell. + +Whether he were injured much or little, none could ever tell. Like +enough, to judge from the sound, his back was broken on the spot. But he +had no time given him to recover. Silver, agile as a monkey even without +leg or crutch, was on the top of him next moment and had twice buried +his knife up to the hilt in that defenceless body. From my place of +ambush, I could hear him pant aloud as he struck the blows. + +I do not know what it rightly is to faint, but I do know that for the +next little while the whole world swam away from before me in a whirling +mist; Silver and the birds, and the tall Spy-glass hilltop, going +round and round and topsy-turvy before my eyes, and all manner of bells +ringing and distant voices shouting in my ear. + +When I came again to myself the monster had pulled himself together, +his crutch under his arm, his hat upon his head. Just before him Tom +lay motionless upon the sward; but the murderer minded him not a whit, +cleansing his blood-stained knife the while upon a wisp of grass. +Everything else was unchanged, the sun still shining mercilessly on the +steaming marsh and the tall pinnacle of the mountain, and I could scarce +persuade myself that murder had been actually done and a human life +cruelly cut short a moment since before my eyes. + +But now John put his hand into his pocket, brought out a whistle, and +blew upon it several modulated blasts that rang far across the heated +air. I could not tell, of course, the meaning of the signal, but +it instantly awoke my fears. More men would be coming. I might be +discovered. They had already slain two of the honest people; after Tom +and Alan, might not I come next? + +Instantly I began to extricate myself and crawl back again, with what +speed and silence I could manage, to the more open portion of the +wood. As I did so, I could hear hails coming and going between the old +buccaneer and his comrades, and this sound of danger lent me wings. As +soon as I was clear of the thicket, I ran as I never ran before, scarce +minding the direction of my flight, so long as it led me from the +murderers; and as I ran, fear grew and grew upon me until it turned into +a kind of frenzy. + +Indeed, could anyone be more entirely lost than I? When the gun fired, +how should I dare to go down to the boats among those fiends, still +smoking from their crime? Would not the first of them who saw me wring +my neck like a snipe’s? Would not my absence itself be an evidence to +them of my alarm, and therefore of my fatal knowledge? It was all over, +I thought. Good-bye to the HISPANIOLA; good-bye to the squire, the +doctor, and the captain! There was nothing left for me but death by +starvation or death by the hands of the mutineers. + +All this while, as I say, I was still running, and without taking any +notice, I had drawn near to the foot of the little hill with the two +peaks and had got into a part of the island where the live-oaks grew +more widely apart and seemed more like forest trees in their bearing and +dimensions. Mingled with these were a few scattered pines, some fifty, +some nearer seventy, feet high. The air too smelt more freshly than down +beside the marsh. + +And here a fresh alarm brought me to a standstill with a thumping heart. + + + + +XV +The Man of the Island + + +From the side of the hill, which was here steep and stony, a spout of +gravel was dislodged and fell rattling and bounding through the trees. +My eyes turned instinctively in that direction, and I saw a figure leap +with great rapidity behind the trunk of a pine. What it was, whether +bear or man or monkey, I could in no wise tell. It seemed dark and +shaggy; more I knew not. But the terror of this new apparition brought +me to a stand. + +I was now, it seemed, cut off upon both sides; behind me the murderers, +before me this lurking nondescript. And immediately I began to prefer +the dangers that I knew to those I knew not. Silver himself appeared +less terrible in contrast with this creature of the woods, and I turned +on my heel, and looking sharply behind me over my shoulder, began to +retrace my steps in the direction of the boats. + +Instantly the figure reappeared, and making a wide circuit, began to +head me off. I was tired, at any rate; but had I been as fresh as when I +rose, I could see it was in vain for me to contend in speed with such an +adversary. From trunk to trunk the creature flitted like a deer, running +manlike on two legs, but unlike any man that I had ever seen, stooping +almost double as it ran. Yet a man it was, I could no longer be in doubt +about that. + +I began to recall what I had heard of cannibals. I was within an ace of +calling for help. But the mere fact that he was a man, however wild, +had somewhat reassured me, and my fear of Silver began to revive in +proportion. I stood still, therefore, and cast about for some method of +escape; and as I was so thinking, the recollection of my pistol flashed +into my mind. As soon as I remembered I was not defenceless, courage +glowed again in my heart and I set my face resolutely for this man of +the island and walked briskly towards him. + +He was concealed by this time behind another tree trunk; but he must +have been watching me closely, for as soon as I began to move in his +direction he reappeared and took a step to meet me. Then he hesitated, +drew back, came forward again, and at last, to my wonder and +confusion, threw himself on his knees and held out his clasped hands in +supplication. + +At that I once more stopped. + +“Who are you?” I asked. + +“Ben Gunn,” he answered, and his voice sounded hoarse and awkward, +like a rusty lock. “I’m poor Ben Gunn, I am; and I haven’t spoke with a +Christian these three years.” + +I could now see that he was a white man like myself and that his +features were even pleasing. His skin, wherever it was exposed, was +burnt by the sun; even his lips were black, and his fair eyes looked +quite startling in so dark a face. Of all the beggar-men that I had seen +or fancied, he was the chief for raggedness. He was clothed with tatters +of old ship’s canvas and old sea-cloth, and this extraordinary patchwork +was all held together by a system of the most various and incongruous +fastenings, brass buttons, bits of stick, and loops of tarry gaskin. +About his waist he wore an old brass-buckled leather belt, which was the +one thing solid in his whole accoutrement. + +“Three years!” I cried. “Were you shipwrecked?” + +“Nay, mate,” said he; “marooned.” + +I had heard the word, and I knew it stood for a horrible kind of +punishment common enough among the buccaneers, in which the offender +is put ashore with a little powder and shot and left behind on some +desolate and distant island. + +“Marooned three years agone,” he continued, “and lived on goats since +then, and berries, and oysters. Wherever a man is, says I, a man can +do for himself. But, mate, my heart is sore for Christian diet. You +mightn’t happen to have a piece of cheese about you, now? No? Well, +many’s the long night I’ve dreamed of cheese--toasted, mostly--and woke +up again, and here I were.” + +“If ever I can get aboard again,” said I, “you shall have cheese by the +stone.” + +All this time he had been feeling the stuff of my jacket, smoothing +my hands, looking at my boots, and generally, in the intervals of +his speech, showing a childish pleasure in the presence of a fellow +creature. But at my last words he perked up into a kind of startled +slyness. + +“If ever you can get aboard again, says you?” he repeated. “Why, now, +who’s to hinder you?” + +“Not you, I know,” was my reply. + +“And right you was,” he cried. “Now you--what do you call yourself, +mate?” + +“Jim,” I told him. + +“Jim, Jim,” says he, quite pleased apparently. “Well, now, Jim, I’ve +lived that rough as you’d be ashamed to hear of. Now, for instance, you +wouldn’t think I had had a pious mother--to look at me?” he asked. + +“Why, no, not in particular,” I answered. + +“Ah, well,” said he, “but I had--_re_markable pious. And I was a civil, +pious boy, and could rattle off my catechism that fast, as you couldn’t +tell one word from another. And here’s what it come to, Jim, and it +begun with chuck-farthen on the blessed grave-stones! That’s what it +begun with, but it went further’n that; and so my mother told me, and +predicked the whole, she did, the pious woman! But it were Providence +that put me here. I’ve thought it all out in this here lonely island, +and I’m back on piety. You don’t catch me tasting rum so much, but just +a thimbleful for luck, of course, the first chance I have. I’m bound +I’ll be good, and I see the way to. And, Jim”--looking all round him and +lowering his voice to a whisper--“I’m rich.” + +I now felt sure that the poor fellow had gone crazy in his solitude, and +I suppose I must have shown the feeling in my face, for he repeated the +statement hotly: “Rich! Rich! I says. And I’ll tell you what: I’ll make +a man of you, Jim. Ah, Jim, you’ll bless your stars, you will, you was +the first that found me!” + +And at this there came suddenly a lowering shadow over his face, and he +tightened his grasp upon my hand and raised a forefinger threateningly +before my eyes. + +“Now, Jim, you tell me true: that ain’t Flint’s ship?” he asked. + +At this I had a happy inspiration. I began to believe that I had found +an ally, and I answered him at once. + +“It’s not Flint’s ship, and Flint is dead; but I’ll tell you true, as +you ask me--there are some of Flint’s hands aboard; worse luck for the +rest of us.” + +“Not a man--with one--leg?” he gasped. + +“Silver?” I asked. + +“Ah, Silver!” says he. “That were his name.” + +“He’s the cook, and the ringleader too.” + +He was still holding me by the wrist, and at that he give it quite a +wring. + +“If you was sent by Long John,” he said, “I’m as good as pork, and I +know it. But where was you, do you suppose?” + +I had made my mind up in a moment, and by way of answer told him +the whole story of our voyage and the predicament in which we found +ourselves. He heard me with the keenest interest, and when I had done he +patted me on the head. + +“You’re a good lad, Jim,” he said; “and you’re all in a clove hitch, +ain’t you? Well, you just put your trust in Ben Gunn--Ben Gunn’s the man +to do it. Would you think it likely, now, that your squire would prove +a liberal-minded one in case of help--him being in a clove hitch, as you +remark?” + +I told him the squire was the most liberal of men. + +“Aye, but you see,” returned Ben Gunn, “I didn’t mean giving me a gate +to keep, and a suit of livery clothes, and such; that’s not my mark, +Jim. What I mean is, would he be likely to come down to the toon of, say +one thousand pounds out of money that’s as good as a man’s own already?” + +“I am sure he would,” said I. “As it was, all hands were to share.” + +“AND a passage home?” he added with a look of great shrewdness. + +“Why,” I cried, “the squire’s a gentleman. And besides, if we got rid of +the others, we should want you to help work the vessel home.” + +“Ah,” said he, “so you would.” And he seemed very much relieved. + +“Now, I’ll tell you what,” he went on. “So much I’ll tell you, and no +more. I were in Flint’s ship when he buried the treasure; he and +six along--six strong seamen. They was ashore nigh on a week, and us +standing off and on in the old WALRUS. One fine day up went the signal, +and here come Flint by himself in a little boat, and his head done up in +a blue scarf. The sun was getting up, and mortal white he looked about +the cutwater. But, there he was, you mind, and the six all dead--dead +and buried. How he done it, not a man aboard us could make out. It was +battle, murder, and sudden death, leastways--him against six. Billy +Bones was the mate; Long John, he was quartermaster; and they asked him +where the treasure was. ‘Ah,’ says he, ‘you can go ashore, if you like, +and stay,’ he says; ‘but as for the ship, she’ll beat up for more, by +thunder!’ That’s what he said. + +“Well, I was in another ship three years back, and we sighted this +island. ‘Boys,’ said I, ‘here’s Flint’s treasure; let’s land and find +it.’ The cap’n was displeased at that, but my messmates were all of a +mind and landed. Twelve days they looked for it, and every day they had +the worse word for me, until one fine morning all hands went aboard. ‘As +for you, Benjamin Gunn,’ says they, ‘here’s a musket,’ they says, ‘and +a spade, and pick-axe. You can stay here and find Flint’s money for +yourself,’ they says. + +“Well, Jim, three years have I been here, and not a bite of Christian +diet from that day to this. But now, you look here; look at me. Do I +look like a man before the mast? No, says you. Nor I weren’t, neither, I +says.” + +And with that he winked and pinched me hard. + +“Just you mention them words to your squire, Jim,” he went on. “Nor he +weren’t, neither--that’s the words. Three years he were the man of this +island, light and dark, fair and rain; and sometimes he would maybe +think upon a prayer (says you), and sometimes he would maybe think of +his old mother, so be as she’s alive (you’ll say); but the most part +of Gunn’s time (this is what you’ll say)--the most part of his time was +took up with another matter. And then you’ll give him a nip, like I do.” + +And he pinched me again in the most confidential manner. + +“Then,” he continued, “then you’ll up, and you’ll say this: Gunn is a +good man (you’ll say), and he puts a precious sight more confidence--a +precious sight, mind that--in a gen’leman born than in these gen’leman +of fortune, having been one hisself.” + +“Well,” I said, “I don’t understand one word that you’ve been saying. +But that’s neither here nor there; for how am I to get on board?” + +“Ah,” said he, “that’s the hitch, for sure. Well, there’s my boat, that +I made with my two hands. I keep her under the white rock. If the worst +come to the worst, we might try that after dark. Hi!” he broke out. +“What’s that?” + +For just then, although the sun had still an hour or two to run, all the +echoes of the island awoke and bellowed to the thunder of a cannon. + +“They have begun to fight!” I cried. “Follow me.” + +And I began to run towards the anchorage, my terrors all forgotten, +while close at my side the marooned man in his goatskins trotted easily +and lightly. + +“Left, left,” says he; “keep to your left hand, mate Jim! Under the +trees with you! Theer’s where I killed my first goat. They don’t come +down here now; they’re all mastheaded on them mountings for the fear +of Benjamin Gunn. Ah! And there’s the cetemery”--cemetery, he must have +meant. “You see the mounds? I come here and prayed, nows and thens, when +I thought maybe a Sunday would be about doo. It weren’t quite a chapel, +but it seemed more solemn like; and then, says you, Ben Gunn was +short-handed--no chapling, nor so much as a Bible and a flag, you says.” + +So he kept talking as I ran, neither expecting nor receiving any answer. + +The cannon-shot was followed after a considerable interval by a volley +of small arms. + +Another pause, and then, not a quarter of a mile in front of me, I +beheld the Union Jack flutter in the air above a wood. + + + + +<|endoftext|>PART FOUR--The Stockade + + + + +XVI +Narrative Continued by the Doctor: How the Ship Was Abandoned + + +It was about half past one--three bells in the sea phrase--that the two +boats went ashore from the HISPANIOLA. The captain, the squire, and I +were talking matters over in the cabin. Had there been a breath of wind, +we should have fallen on the six mutineers who were left aboard with +us, slipped our cable, and away to sea. But the wind was wanting; and +to complete our helplessness, down came Hunter with the news that Jim +Hawkins had slipped into a boat and was gone ashore with the rest. + +It never occurred to us to doubt Jim Hawkins, but we were alarmed for +his safety. With the men in the temper they were in, it seemed an even +chance if we should see the lad again. We ran on deck. The pitch was +bubbling in the seams; the nasty stench of the place turned me sick; +if ever a man smelt fever and dysentery, it was in that abominable +anchorage. The six scoundrels were sitting grumbling under a sail in the +forecastle; ashore we could see the gigs made fast and a man sitting +in each, hard by where the river runs in. One of them was whistling +“Lillibullero.” + +Waiting was a strain, and it was decided that Hunter and I should go +ashore with the jolly-boat in quest of information. + +The gigs had leaned to their right, but Hunter and I pulled straight in, +in the direction of the stockade upon the chart. The two who were +left guarding their boats seemed in a bustle at our appearance; +“Lillibullero” stopped off, and I could see the pair discussing what +they ought to do. Had they gone and told Silver, all might have turned +out differently; but they had their orders, I suppose, and decided to +sit quietly where they were and hark back again to “Lillibullero.” + +There was a slight bend in the coast, and I steered so as to put it +between us; even before we landed we had thus lost sight of the gigs. +I jumped out and came as near running as I durst, with a big silk +handkerchief under my hat for coolness’ sake and a brace of pistols +ready primed for safety. + +I had not gone a hundred yards when I reached the stockade. + +This was how it was: a spring of clear water rose almost at the top of a +knoll. Well, on the knoll, and enclosing the spring, they had clapped a +stout loghouse fit to hold two score of people on a pinch and loopholed +for musketry on either side. All round this they had cleared a wide +space, and then the thing was completed by a paling six feet high, +without door or opening, too strong to pull down without time and labour +and too open to shelter the besiegers. The people in the log-house had +them in every way; they stood quiet in shelter and shot the others like +partridges. All they wanted was a good watch and food; for, short of a +complete surprise, they might have held the place against a regiment. + +What particularly took my fancy was the spring. For though we had a good +enough place of it in the cabin of the HISPANIOLA, with plenty of arms +and ammunition, and things to eat, and excellent wines, there had been +one thing overlooked--we had no water. I was thinking this over when +there came ringing over the island the cry of a man at the point of +death. I was not new to violent death--I have served his Royal Highness +the Duke of Cumberland, and got a wound myself at Fontenoy--but I know +my pulse went dot and carry one. “Jim Hawkins is gone,” was my first +thought. + +It is something to have been an old soldier, but more still to have been +a doctor. There is no time to dilly-dally in our work. And so now I made +up my mind instantly, and with no time lost returned to the shore and +jumped on board the jolly-boat. + +By good fortune Hunter pulled a good oar. We made the water fly, and the +boat was soon alongside and I aboard the schooner. + +I found them all shaken, as was natural. The squire was sitting down, as +white as a sheet, thinking of the harm he had led us to, the good soul! +And one of the six forecastle hands was little better. + +“There’s a man,” says Captain Smollett, nodding towards him, “new to +this work. He came nigh-hand fainting, doctor, when he heard the cry. +Another touch of the rudder and that man would join us.” + +I told my plan to the captain, and between us we settled on the details +of its accomplishment. + +We put old Redruth in the gallery between the cabin and the forecastle, +with three or four loaded muskets and a mattress for protection. Hunter +brought the boat round under the stern-port, and Joyce and I set to work +loading her with powder tins, muskets, bags of biscuits, kegs of pork, a +cask of cognac, and my invaluable medicine chest. + +In the meantime, the squire and the captain stayed on deck, and the +latter hailed the coxswain, who was the principal man aboard. + +“Mr. Hands,” he said, “here are two of us with a brace of pistols each. +If any one of you six make a signal of any description, that man’s +dead.” + +They were a good deal taken aback, and after a little consultation one +and all tumbled down the fore companion, thinking no doubt to take us +on the rear. But when they saw Redruth waiting for them in the sparred +galley, they went about ship at once, and a head popped out again on +deck. + +“Down, dog!” cries the captain. + +And the head popped back again; and we heard no more, for the time, of +these six very faint-hearted seamen. + +By this time, tumbling things in as they came, we had the jolly-boat +loaded as much as we dared. Joyce and I got out through the stern-port, +and we made for shore again as fast as oars could take us. + +This second trip fairly aroused the watchers along shore. “Lillibullero” + was dropped again; and just before we lost sight of them behind the +little point, one of them whipped ashore and disappeared. I had half a +mind to change my plan and destroy their boats, but I feared that Silver +and the others might be close at hand, and all might very well be lost +by trying for too much. + +We had soon touched land in the same place as before and set to +provision the block house. All three made the first journey, heavily +laden, and tossed our stores over the palisade. Then, leaving Joyce to +guard them--one man, to be sure, but with half a dozen muskets--Hunter +and I returned to the jolly-boat and loaded ourselves once more. So +we proceeded without pausing to take breath, till the whole cargo was +bestowed, when the two servants took up their position in the block +house, and I, with all my power, sculled back to the HISPANIOLA. + +That we should have risked a second boat load seems more daring than it +really was. They had the advantage of numbers, of course, but we had the +advantage of arms. Not one of the men ashore had a musket, and before +they could get within range for pistol shooting, we flattered ourselves +we should be able to give a good account of a half-dozen at least. + +The squire was waiting for me at the stern window, all his faintness +gone from him. He caught the painter and made it fast, and we fell to +loading the boat for our very lives. Pork, powder, and biscuit was the +cargo, with only a musket and a cutlass apiece for the squire and me +and Redruth and the captain. The rest of the arms and powder we dropped +overboard in two fathoms and a half of water, so that we could see +the bright steel shining far below us in the sun, on the clean, sandy +bottom. + +By this time the tide was beginning to ebb, and the ship was swinging +round to her anchor. Voices were heard faintly halloaing in the +direction of the two gigs; and though this reassured us for Joyce and +Hunter, who were well to the eastward, it warned our party to be off. + +Redruth retreated from his place in the gallery and dropped into the +boat, which we then brought round to the ship’s counter, to be handier +for Captain Smollett. + +“Now, men,” said he, “do you hear me?” + +There was no answer from the forecastle. + +“It’s to you, Abraham Gray--it’s to you I am speaking.” + +Still no reply. + +“Gray,” resumed Mr. Smollett, a little louder, “I am leaving this ship, +and I order you to follow your captain. I know you are a good man at +bottom, and I dare say not one of the lot of you’s as bad as he makes +out. I have my watch here in my hand; I give you thirty seconds to join +me in.” + +There was a pause. + +“Come, my fine fellow,” continued the captain; “don’t hang so long in +stays. I’m risking my life and the lives of these good gentlemen every +second.” + +There was a sudden scuffle, a sound of blows, and out burst Abraham +Gray with a knife cut on the side of the cheek, and came running to the +captain like a dog to the whistle. + +“I’m with you, sir,” said he. + +And the next moment he and the captain had dropped aboard of us, and we +had shoved off and given way. + +We were clear out of the ship, but not yet ashore in our stockade. + + + + +XXVII +Narrative Continued by the Doctor: The Jolly-boat’s Last Trip + + +This fifth trip was quite different from any of the others. In the +first place, the little gallipot of a boat that we were in was gravely +overloaded. Five grown men, and three of them--Trelawney, Redruth, and +the captain--over six feet high, was already more than she was meant +to carry. Add to that the powder, pork, and bread-bags. The gunwale was +lipping astern. Several times we shipped a little water, and my breeches +and the tails of my coat were all soaking wet before we had gone a +hundred yards. + +The captain made us trim the boat, and we got her to lie a little more +evenly. All the same, we were afraid to breathe. + +In the second place, the ebb was now making--a strong rippling current +running westward through the basin, and then south’ard and seaward down +the straits by which we had entered in the morning. Even the ripples +were a danger to our overloaded craft, but the worst of it was that we +were swept out of our true course and away from our proper landing-place +behind the point. If we let the current have its way we should come +ashore beside the gigs, where the pirates might appear at any moment. + +“I cannot keep her head for the stockade, sir,” said I to the captain. +I was steering, while he and Redruth, two fresh men, were at the oars. +“The tide keeps washing her down. Could you pull a little stronger?” + +“Not without swamping the boat,” said he. “You must bear up, sir, if you +please--bear up until you see you’re gaining.” + +I tried and found by experiment that the tide kept sweeping us westward +until I had laid her head due east, or just about right angles to the +way we ought to go. + +“We’ll never get ashore at this rate,” said I. + +“If it’s the only course that we can lie, sir, we must even lie it,” + returned the captain. “We must keep upstream. You see, sir,” he went on, +“if once we dropped to leeward of the landing-place, it’s hard to say +where we should get ashore, besides the chance of being boarded by the +gigs; whereas, the way we go the current must slacken, and then we can +dodge back along the shore.” + +“The current’s less a’ready, sir,” said the man Gray, who was sitting in +the fore-sheets; “you can ease her off a bit.” + +“Thank you, my man,” said I, quite as if nothing had happened, for we +had all quietly made up our minds to treat him like one of ourselves. + +Suddenly the captain spoke up again, and I thought his voice was a +little changed. + +“The gun!” said he. + +“I have thought of that,” said I, for I made sure he was thinking of a +bombardment of the fort. “They could never get the gun ashore, and if +they did, they could never haul it through the woods.” + +“Look astern, doctor,” replied the captain. + +We had entirely forgotten the long nine; and there, to our horror, were +the five rogues busy about her, getting off her jacket, as they called +the stout tarpaulin cover under which she sailed. Not only that, but +it flashed into my mind at the same moment that the round-shot and the +powder for the gun had been left behind, and a stroke with an axe would +put it all into the possession of the evil ones abroad. + +“Israel was Flint’s gunner,” said Gray hoarsely. + +At any risk, we put the boat’s head direct for the landing-place. By +this time we had got so far out of the run of the current that we kept +steerage way even at our necessarily gentle rate of rowing, and I could +keep her steady for the goal. But the worst of it was that with the +course I now held we turned our broadside instead of our stern to the +HISPANIOLA and offered a target like a barn door. + +I could hear as well as see that brandy-faced rascal Israel Hands +plumping down a round-shot on the deck. + +“Who’s the best shot?” asked the captain. + +“Mr. Trelawney, out and away,” said I. + +“Mr. Trelawney, will you please pick me off one of these men, sir? +Hands, if possible,” said the captain. + +Trelawney was as cool as steel. He looked to the priming of his gun. + +“Now,” cried the captain, “easy with that gun, sir, or you’ll swamp the +boat. All hands stand by to trim her when he aims.” + +The squire raised his gun, the rowing ceased, and we leaned over to the +other side to keep the balance, and all was so nicely contrived that we +did not ship a drop. + +They had the gun, by this time, slewed round upon the swivel, and Hands, +who was at the muzzle with the rammer, was in consequence the most +exposed. However, we had no luck, for just as Trelawney fired, down he +stooped, the ball whistled over him, and it was one of the other four +who fell. + +The cry he gave was echoed not only by his companions on board but by a +great number of voices from the shore, and looking in that direction +I saw the other pirates trooping out from among the trees and tumbling +into their places in the boats. + +“Here come the gigs, sir,” said I. + +“Give way, then,” cried the captain. “We mustn’t mind if we swamp her +now. If we can’t get ashore, all’s up.” + +“Only one of the gigs is being manned, sir,” I added; “the crew of the +other most likely going round by shore to cut us off.” + +“They’ll have a hot run, sir,” returned the captain. “Jack ashore, you +know. It’s not them I mind; it’s the round-shot. Carpet bowls! My lady’s +maid couldn’t miss. Tell us, squire, when you see the match, and we’ll +hold water.” + +In the meanwhile we had been making headway at a good pace for a boat so +overloaded, and we had shipped but little water in the process. We were +now close in; thirty or forty strokes and we should beach her, for the +ebb had already disclosed a narrow belt of sand below the clustering +trees. The gig was no longer to be feared; the little point had already +concealed it from our eyes. The ebb-tide, which had so cruelly delayed +us, was now making reparation and delaying our assailants. The one +source of danger was the gun. + +“If I durst,” said the captain, “I’d stop and pick off another man.” + +But it was plain that they meant nothing should delay their shot. They +had never so much as looked at their fallen comrade, though he was not +dead, and I could see him trying to crawl away. + +“Ready!” cried the squire. + +“Hold!” cried the captain, quick as an echo. + +And he and Redruth backed with a great heave that sent her stern bodily +under water. The report fell in at the same instant of time. This was +the first that Jim heard, the sound of the squire’s shot not having +reached him. Where the ball passed, not one of us precisely knew, but I +fancy it must have been over our heads and that the wind of it may have +contributed to our disaster. + +At any rate, the boat sank by the stern, quite gently, in three feet of +water, leaving the captain and myself, facing each other, on our feet. +The other three took complete headers, and came up again drenched and +bubbling. + +So far there was no great harm. No lives were lost, and we could wade +ashore in safety. But there were all our stores at the bottom, and to +make things worse, only two guns out of five remained in a state for +service. Mine I had snatched from my knees and held over my head, by +a sort of instinct. As for the captain, he had carried his over his +shoulder by a bandoleer, and like a wise man, lock uppermost. The other +three had gone down with the boat. + +To add to our concern, we heard voices already drawing near us in the +woods along shore, and we had not only the danger of being cut off from +the stockade in our half-crippled state but the fear before us whether, +if Hunter and Joyce were attacked by half a dozen, they would have the +sense and conduct to stand firm. Hunter was steady, that we knew; Joyce +was a doubtful case--a pleasant, polite man for a valet and to brush +one’s clothes, but not entirely fitted for a man of war. + +With all this in our minds, we waded ashore as fast as we could, leaving +behind us the poor jolly-boat and a good half of all our powder and +provisions. + + + + +XVIII +Narrative Continued by the Doctor: End of the First Day’s Fighting + + +We made our best speed across the strip of wood that now divided us from +the stockade, and at every step we took the voices of the buccaneers +rang nearer. Soon we could hear their footfalls as they ran and the +cracking of the branches as they breasted across a bit of thicket. + +I began to see we should have a brush for it in earnest and looked to my +priming. + +“Captain,” said I, “Trelawney is the dead shot. Give him your gun; his +own is useless.” + +They exchanged guns, and Trelawney, silent and cool as he had been since +the beginning of the bustle, hung a moment on his heel to see that all +was fit for service. At the same time, observing Gray to be unarmed, I +handed him my cutlass. It did all our hearts good to see him spit in his +hand, knit his brows, and make the blade sing through the air. It was +plain from every line of his body that our new hand was worth his salt. + +Forty paces farther we came to the edge of the wood and saw the stockade +in front of us. We struck the enclosure about the middle of the south +side, and almost at the same time, seven mutineers--Job Anderson, the +boatswain, at their head--appeared in full cry at the southwestern +corner. + +They paused as if taken aback, and before they recovered, not only the +squire and I, but Hunter and Joyce from the block house, had time to +fire. The four shots came in rather a scattering volley, but they did +the business: one of the enemy actually fell, and the rest, without +hesitation, turned and plunged into the trees. + +After reloading, we walked down the outside of the palisade to see to +the fallen enemy. He was stone dead--shot through the heart. + +We began to rejoice over our good success when just at that moment a +pistol cracked in the bush, a ball whistled close past my ear, and poor +Tom Redruth stumbled and fell his length on the ground. Both the squire +and I returned the shot, but as we had nothing to aim at, it is probable +we only wasted powder. Then we reloaded and turned our attention to poor +Tom. + +The captain and Gray were already examining him, and I saw with half an +eye that all was over. + +I believe the readiness of our return volley had scattered the mutineers +once more, for we were suffered without further molestation to get the +poor old gamekeeper hoisted over the stockade and carried, groaning and +bleeding, into the log-house. + +Poor old fellow, he had not uttered one word of surprise, complaint, +fear, or even acquiescence from the very beginning of our troubles till +now, when we had laid him down in the log-house to die. He had lain like +a Trojan behind his mattress in the gallery; he had followed every order +silently, doggedly, and well; he was the oldest of our party by a score +of years; and now, sullen, old, serviceable servant, it was he that was +to die. + +The squire dropped down beside him on his knees and kissed his hand, +crying like a child. + +“Be I going, doctor?” he asked. + +“Tom, my man,” said I, “you’re going home.” + +“I wish I had had a lick at them with the gun first,” he replied. + +“Tom,” said the squire, “say you forgive me, won’t you?” + +“Would that be respectful like, from me to you, squire?” was the answer. +“Howsoever, so be it, amen!” + +After a little while of silence, he said he thought somebody might read +a prayer. “It’s the custom, sir,” he added apologetically. And not long +after, without another word, he passed away. + +In the meantime the captain, whom I had observed to be wonderfully +swollen about the chest and pockets, had turned out a great many various +stores--the British colours, a Bible, a coil of stoutish rope, pen, ink, +the log-book, and pounds of tobacco. He had found a longish fir-tree +lying felled and trimmed in the enclosure, and with the help of Hunter +he had set it up at the corner of the log-house where the trunks crossed +and made an angle. Then, climbing on the roof, he had with his own hand +bent and run up the colours. + +This seemed mightily to relieve him. He re-entered the log-house and set +about counting up the stores as if nothing else existed. But he had an +eye on Tom’s passage for all that, and as soon as all was over, came +forward with another flag and reverently spread it on the body. + +“Don’t you take on, sir,” he said, shaking the squire’s hand. “All’s +well with him; no fear for a hand that’s been shot down in his duty to +captain and owner. It mayn’t be good divinity, but it’s a fact.” + +Then he pulled me aside. + +“Dr. Livesey,” he said, “in how many weeks do you and squire expect the +consort?” + +I told him it was a question not of weeks but of months, that if we +were not back by the end of August Blandly was to send to find us, but +neither sooner nor later. “You can calculate for yourself,” I said. + +“Why, yes,” returned the captain, scratching his head; “and making a +large allowance, sir, for all the gifts of Providence, I should say we +were pretty close hauled.” + +“How do you mean?” I asked. + +“It’s a pity, sir, we lost that second load. That’s what I mean,” + replied the captain. “As for powder and shot, we’ll do. But the rations +are short, very short--so short, Dr. Livesey, that we’re perhaps as well +without that extra mouth.” + +And he pointed to the dead body under the flag. + +Just then, with a roar and a whistle, a round-shot passed high above the +roof of the log-house and plumped far beyond us in the wood. + +“Oho!” said the captain. “Blaze away! You’ve little enough powder +already, my lads.” + +At the second trial, the aim was better, and the ball descended inside +the stockade, scattering a cloud of sand but doing no further damage. + +“Captain,” said the squire, “the house is quite invisible from the ship. +It must be the flag they are aiming at. Would it not be wiser to take it +in?” + +“Strike my colours!” cried the captain. “No, sir, not I”; and as soon +as he had said the words, I think we all agreed with him. For it was +not only a piece of stout, seamanly, good feeling; it was good policy +besides and showed our enemies that we despised their cannonade. + +All through the evening they kept thundering away. Ball after ball flew +over or fell short or kicked up the sand in the enclosure, but they had +to fire so high that the shot fell dead and buried itself in the soft +sand. We had no ricochet to fear, and though one popped in through the +roof of the log-house and out again through the floor, we soon got used +to that sort of horse-play and minded it no more than cricket. + +“There is one good thing about all this,” observed the captain; “the +wood in front of us is likely clear. The ebb has made a good while; our +stores should be uncovered. Volunteers to go and bring in pork.” + +Gray and Hunter were the first to come forward. Well armed, they stole +out of the stockade, but it proved a useless mission. The mutineers were +bolder than we fancied or they put more trust in Israel’s gunnery. For +four or five of them were busy carrying off our stores and wading out +with them to one of the gigs that lay close by, pulling an oar or so to +hold her steady against the current. Silver was in the stern-sheets in +command; and every man of them was now provided with a musket from some +secret magazine of their own. + +The captain sat down to his log, and here is the beginning of the entry: + + Alexander Smollett, master; David Livesey, ship’s + doctor; Abraham Gray, carpenter’s mate; John + Trelawney, owner; John Hunter and Richard Joyce, + owner’s servants, landsmen--being all that is left + faithful of the ship’s company--with stores for ten + days at short rations, came ashore this day and flew + British colours on the log-house in Treasure Island. + Thomas Redruth, owner’s servant, landsman, shot by the + mutineers; James Hawkins, cabin-boy-- + +And at the same time, I was wondering over poor Jim Hawkins’ fate. + +A hail on the land side. + +“Somebody hailing us,” said Hunter, who was on guard. + +“Doctor! Squire! Captain! Hullo, Hunter, is that you?” came the cries. + +And I ran to the door in time to see Jim Hawkins, safe and sound, come +climbing over the stockade. + + + + +XIX +Narrative Resumed by Jim Hawkins: The Garrison in the Stockade + + +As soon as Ben Gunn saw the colours he came to a halt, stopped me by the +arm, and sat down. + +“Now,” said he, “there’s your friends, sure enough.” + +“Far more likely it’s the mutineers,” I answered. + +“That!” he cried. “Why, in a place like this, where nobody puts in but +gen’lemen of fortune, Silver would fly the Jolly Roger, you don’t make +no doubt of that. No, that’s your friends. There’s been blows too, and I +reckon your friends has had the best of it; and here they are ashore in +the old stockade, as was made years and years ago by Flint. Ah, he was +the man to have a headpiece, was Flint! Barring rum, his match were +never seen. He were afraid of none, not he; on’y Silver--Silver was that +genteel.” + +“Well,” said I, “that may be so, and so be it; all the more reason that +I should hurry on and join my friends.” + +“Nay, mate,” returned Ben, “not you. You’re a good boy, or I’m mistook; +but you’re on’y a boy, all told. Now, Ben Gunn is fly. Rum wouldn’t +bring me there, where you’re going--not rum wouldn’t, till I see your +born gen’leman and gets it on his word of honour. And you won’t forget +my words; ‘A precious sight (that’s what you’ll say), a precious sight +more confidence’--and then nips him.” + +And he pinched me the third time with the same air of cleverness. + +“And when Ben Gunn is wanted, you know where to find him, Jim. Just +wheer you found him today. And him that comes is to have a white thing +in his hand, and he’s to come alone. Oh! And you’ll say this: ‘Ben +Gunn,’ says you, ‘has reasons of his own.’” + +“Well,” said I, “I believe I understand. You have something to propose, +and you wish to see the squire or the doctor, and you’re to be found +where I found you. Is that all?” + +“And when? says you,” he added. “Why, from about noon observation to +about six bells.” + +“Good,” said I, “and now may I go?” + +“You won’t forget?” he inquired anxiously. “Precious sight, and reasons +of his own, says you. Reasons of his own; that’s the mainstay; as +between man and man. Well, then”--still holding me--“I reckon you can +go, Jim. And, Jim, if you was to see Silver, you wouldn’t go for to sell +Ben Gunn? Wild horses wouldn’t draw it from you? No, says you. And if +them pirates camp ashore, Jim, what would you say but there’d be widders +in the morning?” + +Here he was interrupted by a loud report, and a cannonball came tearing +through the trees and pitched in the sand not a hundred yards from where +we two were talking. The next moment each of us had taken to his heels +in a different direction. + +For a good hour to come frequent reports shook the island, and +balls kept crashing through the woods. I moved from hiding-place to +hiding-place, always pursued, or so it seemed to me, by these terrifying +missiles. But towards the end of the bombardment, though still I durst +not venture in the direction of the stockade, where the balls fell +oftenest, I had begun, in a manner, to pluck up my heart again, and +after a long detour to the east, crept down among the shore-side trees. + +The sun had just set, the sea breeze was rustling and tumbling in the +woods and ruffling the grey surface of the anchorage; the tide, too, was +far out, and great tracts of sand lay uncovered; the air, after the heat +of the day, chilled me through my jacket. + +The HISPANIOLA still lay where she had anchored; but, sure enough, there +was the Jolly Roger--the black flag of piracy--flying from her peak. +Even as I looked, there came another red flash and another report that +sent the echoes clattering, and one more round-shot whistled through the +air. It was the last of the cannonade. + +I lay for some time watching the bustle which succeeded the attack. Men +were demolishing something with axes on the beach near the stockade--the +poor jolly-boat, I afterwards discovered. Away, near the mouth of the +river, a great fire was glowing among the trees, and between that point +and the ship one of the gigs kept coming and going, the men, whom I +had seen so gloomy, shouting at the oars like children. But there was a +sound in their voices which suggested rum. + +At length I thought I might return towards the stockade. I was pretty +far down on the low, sandy spit that encloses the anchorage to the east, +and is joined at half-water to Skeleton Island; and now, as I rose to my +feet, I saw, some distance further down the spit and rising from among +low bushes, an isolated rock, pretty high, and peculiarly white in +colour. It occurred to me that this might be the white rock of which Ben +Gunn had spoken and that some day or other a boat might be wanted and I +should know where to look for one. + +Then I skirted among the woods until I had regained the rear, or +shoreward side, of the stockade, and was soon warmly welcomed by the +faithful party. + +I had soon told my story and began to look about me. The log-house was +made of unsquared trunks of pine--roof, walls, and floor. The latter +stood in several places as much as a foot or a foot and a half above the +surface of the sand. There was a porch at the door, and under this porch +the little spring welled up into an artificial basin of a rather odd +kind--no other than a great ship’s kettle of iron, with the bottom +knocked out, and sunk “to her bearings,” as the captain said, among the +sand. + +Little had been left besides the framework of the house, but in one +corner there was a stone slab laid down by way of hearth and an old +rusty iron basket to contain the fire. + +The slopes of the knoll and all the inside of the stockade had been +cleared of timber to build the house, and we could see by the stumps +what a fine and lofty grove had been destroyed. Most of the soil had +been washed away or buried in drift after the removal of the trees; only +where the streamlet ran down from the kettle a thick bed of moss and +some ferns and little creeping bushes were still green among the sand. +Very close around the stockade--too close for defence, they said--the +wood still flourished high and dense, all of fir on the land side, but +towards the sea with a large admixture of live-oaks. + +The cold evening breeze, of which I have spoken, whistled through every +chink of the rude building and sprinkled the floor with a continual rain +of fine sand. There was sand in our eyes, sand in our teeth, sand in our +suppers, sand dancing in the spring at the bottom of the kettle, for all +the world like porridge beginning to boil. Our chimney was a square hole +in the roof; it was but a little part of the smoke that found its way +out, and the rest eddied about the house and kept us coughing and piping +the eye. + +Add to this that Gray, the new man, had his face tied up in a bandage +for a cut he had got in breaking away from the mutineers and that poor +old Tom Redruth, still unburied, lay along the wall, stiff and stark, +under the Union Jack. + +If we had been allowed to sit idle, we should all have fallen in the +blues, but Captain Smollett was never the man for that. All hands were +called up before him, and he divided us into watches. The doctor and +Gray and I for one; the squire, Hunter, and Joyce upon the other. Tired +though we all were, two were sent out for firewood; two more were set to +dig a grave for Redruth; the doctor was named cook; I was put sentry at +the door; and the captain himself went from one to another, keeping up +our spirits and lending a hand wherever it was wanted. + +From time to time the doctor came to the door for a little air and to +rest his eyes, which were almost smoked out of his head, and whenever he +did so, he had a word for me. + +“That man Smollett,” he said once, “is a better man than I am. And when +I say that it means a deal, Jim.” + +Another time he came and was silent for a while. Then he put his head on +one side, and looked at me. + +“Is this Ben Gunn a man?” he asked. + +“I do not know, sir,” said I. “I am not very sure whether he’s sane.” + +“If there��s any doubt about the matter, he is,” returned the doctor. “A +man who has been three years biting his nails on a desert island, Jim, +can’t expect to appear as sane as you or me. It doesn’t lie in human +nature. Was it cheese you said he had a fancy for?” + +“Yes, sir, cheese,” I answered. + +“Well, Jim,” says he, “just see the good that comes of being dainty in +your food. You’ve seen my snuff-box, haven’t you? And you never saw me +take snuff, the reason being that in my snuff-box I carry a piece of +Parmesan cheese--a cheese made in Italy, very nutritious. Well, that’s +for Ben Gunn!” + +Before supper was eaten we buried old Tom in the sand and stood round +him for a while bare-headed in the breeze. A good deal of firewood had +been got in, but not enough for the captain’s fancy, and he shook his +head over it and told us we “must get back to this tomorrow rather +livelier.” Then, when we had eaten our pork and each had a good stiff +glass of brandy grog, the three chiefs got together in a corner to +discuss our prospects. + +It appears they were at their wits’ end what to do, the stores being so +low that we must have been starved into surrender long before help came. +But our best hope, it was decided, was to kill off the buccaneers until +they either hauled down their flag or ran away with the HISPANIOLA. From +nineteen they were already reduced to fifteen, two others were wounded, +and one at least--the man shot beside the gun--severely wounded, if he +were not dead. Every time we had a crack at them, we were to take it, +saving our own lives, with the extremest care. And besides that, we had +two able allies--rum and the climate. + +As for the first, though we were about half a mile away, we could hear +them roaring and singing late into the night; and as for the second, +the doctor staked his wig that, camped where they were in the marsh +and unprovided with remedies, the half of them would be on their backs +before a week. + +“So,” he added, “if we are not all shot down first they’ll be glad to +be packing in the schooner. It’s always a ship, and they can get to +buccaneering again, I suppose.” + +“First ship that ever I lost,” said Captain Smollett. + +I was dead tired, as you may fancy; and when I got to sleep, which was +not till after a great deal of tossing, I slept like a log of wood. + +The rest had long been up and had already breakfasted and increased the +pile of firewood by about half as much again when I was wakened by a +bustle and the sound of voices. + +“Flag of truce!” I heard someone say; and then, immediately after, with +a cry of surprise, “Silver himself!” + +And at that, up I jumped, and rubbing my eyes, ran to a loophole in the +wall. + + + + +XX +Silver’s Embassy + + +Sure enough, there were two men just outside the stockade, one of them +waving a white cloth, the other, no less a person than Silver himself, +standing placidly by. + +It was still quite early, and the coldest morning that I think I ever +was abroad in--a chill that pierced into the marrow. The sky was bright +and cloudless overhead, and the tops of the trees shone rosily in +the sun. But where Silver stood with his lieutenant, all was still in +shadow, and they waded knee-deep in a low white vapour that had crawled +during the night out of the morass. The chill and the vapour taken +together told a poor tale of the island. It was plainly a damp, +feverish, unhealthy spot. + +“Keep indoors, men,” said the captain. “Ten to one this is a trick.” + +Then he hailed the buccaneer. + +“Who goes? Stand, or we fire.” + +“Flag of truce,” cried Silver. + +The captain was in the porch, keeping himself carefully out of the way +of a treacherous shot, should any be intended. He turned and spoke to +us, “Doctor’s watch on the lookout. Dr. Livesey take the north side, +if you please; Jim, the east; Gray, west. The watch below, all hands to +load muskets. Lively, men, and careful.” + +And then he turned again to the mutineers. + +“And what do you want with your flag of truce?” he cried. + +This time it was the other man who replied. + +“Cap’n Silver, sir, to come on board and make terms,” he shouted. + +“Cap’n Silver! Don’t know him. Who’s he?” cried the captain. And we +could hear him adding to himself, “Cap’n, is it? My heart, and here’s +promotion!” + +Long John answered for himself. “Me, sir. These poor lads have chosen me +cap’n, after your desertion, sir”--laying a particular emphasis upon the +word “desertion.” “We’re willing to submit, if we can come to terms, +and no bones about it. All I ask is your word, Cap’n Smollett, to let me +safe and sound out of this here stockade, and one minute to get out o’ +shot before a gun is fired.” + +“My man,” said Captain Smollett, “I have not the slightest desire to +talk to you. If you wish to talk to me, you can come, that’s all. If +there’s any treachery, it’ll be on your side, and the Lord help you.” + +“That’s enough, Cap’n,” shouted Long John cheerily. “A word from you’s +enough. I know a gentleman, and you may lay to that.” + +We could see the man who carried the flag of truce attempting to hold +Silver back. Nor was that wonderful, seeing how cavalier had been the +captain’s answer. But Silver laughed at him aloud and slapped him on the +back as if the idea of alarm had been absurd. Then he advanced to the +stockade, threw over his crutch, got a leg up, and with great vigour +and skill succeeded in surmounting the fence and dropping safely to the +other side. + +I will confess that I was far too much taken up with what was going on +to be of the slightest use as sentry; indeed, I had already deserted +my eastern loophole and crept up behind the captain, who had now seated +himself on the threshold, with his elbows on his knees, his head in his +hands, and his eyes fixed on the water as it bubbled out of the old iron +kettle in the sand. He was whistling “Come, Lasses and Lads.” + +Silver had terrible hard work getting up the knoll. What with the +steepness of the incline, the thick tree stumps, and the soft sand, he +and his crutch were as helpless as a ship in stays. But he stuck to it +like a man in silence, and at last arrived before the captain, whom +he saluted in the handsomest style. He was tricked out in his best; +an immense blue coat, thick with brass buttons, hung as low as to his +knees, and a fine laced hat was set on the back of his head. + +“Here you are, my man,” said the captain, raising his head. “You had +better sit down.” + +“You ain’t a-going to let me inside, Cap’n?” complained Long John. “It’s +a main cold morning, to be sure, sir, to sit outside upon the sand.” + +“Why, Silver,” said the captain, “if you had pleased to be an honest +man, you might have been sitting in your galley. It’s your own doing. +You’re either my ship’s cook--and then you were treated handsome--or +Cap’n Silver, a common mutineer and pirate, and then you can go hang!” + +“Well, well, Cap’n,” returned the sea-cook, sitting down as he was +bidden on the sand, “you’ll have to give me a hand up again, that’s all. +A sweet pretty place you have of it here. Ah, there’s Jim! The top of +the morning to you, Jim. Doctor, here’s my service. Why, there you all +are together like a happy family, in a manner of speaking.” + +“If you have anything to say, my man, better say it,” said the captain. + +“Right you were, Cap’n Smollett,” replied Silver. “Dooty is dooty, to be +sure. Well now, you look here, that was a good lay of yours last +night. I don’t deny it was a good lay. Some of you pretty handy with a +handspike-end. And I’ll not deny neither but what some of my people was +shook--maybe all was shook; maybe I was shook myself; maybe that’s +why I’m here for terms. But you mark me, Cap’n, it won’t do twice, by +thunder! We’ll have to do sentry-go and ease off a point or so on the +rum. Maybe you think we were all a sheet in the wind’s eye. But I’ll +tell you I was sober; I was on’y dog tired; and if I’d awoke a second +sooner, I’d ’a caught you at the act, I would. He wasn’t dead when I got +round to him, not he.” + +“Well?” says Captain Smollett as cool as can be. + +All that Silver said was a riddle to him, but you would never have +guessed it from his tone. As for me, I began to have an inkling. Ben +Gunn’s last words came back to my mind. I began to suppose that he had +paid the buccaneers a visit while they all lay drunk together round +their fire, and I reckoned up with glee that we had only fourteen +enemies to deal with. + +“Well, here it is,” said Silver. “We want that treasure, and we’ll have +it--that’s our point! You would just as soon save your lives, I reckon; +and that’s yours. You have a chart, haven’t you?” + +“That’s as may be,” replied the captain. + +“Oh, well, you have, I know that,” returned Long John. “You needn’t be +so husky with a man; there ain’t a particle of service in that, and you +may lay to it. What I mean is, we want your chart. Now, I never meant +you no harm, myself.” + +“That won’t do with me, my man,” interrupted the captain. “We know +exactly what you meant to do, and we don’t care, for now, you see, you +can’t do it.” + +And the captain looked at him calmly and proceeded to fill a pipe. + +“If Abe Gray--” Silver broke out. + +“Avast there!” cried Mr. Smollett. “Gray told me nothing, and I asked +him nothing; and what’s more, I would see you and him and this whole +island blown clean out of the water into blazes first. So there’s my +mind for you, my man, on that.” + +This little whiff of temper seemed to cool Silver down. He had been +growing nettled before, but now he pulled himself together. + +“Like enough,” said he. “I would set no limits to what gentlemen might +consider shipshape, or might not, as the case were. And seein’ as how +you are about to take a pipe, Cap’n, I’ll make so free as do likewise.” + +And he filled a pipe and lighted it; and the two men sat silently +smoking for quite a while, now looking each other in the face, now +stopping their tobacco, now leaning forward to spit. It was as good as +the play to see them. + +“Now,” resumed Silver, “here it is. You give us the chart to get the +treasure by, and drop shooting poor seamen and stoving of their heads in +while asleep. You do that, and we’ll offer you a choice. Either you come +aboard along of us, once the treasure shipped, and then I’ll give you my +affy-davy, upon my word of honour, to clap you somewhere safe ashore. Or +if that ain’t to your fancy, some of my hands being rough and having +old scores on account of hazing, then you can stay here, you can. We’ll +divide stores with you, man for man; and I’ll give my affy-davy, as +before to speak the first ship I sight, and send ’em here to pick you +up. Now, you’ll own that’s talking. Handsomer you couldn’t look to get, +now you. And I hope”--raising his voice--“that all hands in this here +block house will overhaul my words, for what is spoke to one is spoke to +all.” + +Captain Smollett rose from his seat and knocked out the ashes of his +pipe in the palm of his left hand. + +“Is that all?” he asked. + +“Every last word, by thunder!” answered John. “Refuse that, and you’ve +seen the last of me but musket-balls.” + +“Very good,” said the captain. “Now you’ll hear me. If you’ll come up +one by one, unarmed, I’ll engage to clap you all in irons and take you +home to a fair trial in England. If you won’t, my name is Alexander +Smollett, I’ve flown my sovereign’s colours, and I’ll see you all +to Davy Jones. You can’t find the treasure. You can’t sail the +ship--there’s not a man among you fit to sail the ship. You can’t fight +us--Gray, there, got away from five of you. Your ship’s in irons, Master +Silver; you’re on a lee shore, and so you’ll find. I stand here and tell +you so; and they’re the last good words you’ll get from me, for in the +name of heaven, I’ll put a bullet in your back when next I meet you. +Tramp, my lad. Bundle out of this, please, hand over hand, and double +quick.” + +Silver’s face was a picture; his eyes started in his head with wrath. He +shook the fire out of his pipe. + +“Give me a hand up!” he cried. + +“Not I,” returned the captain. + +“Who’ll give me a hand up?” he roared. + +Not a man among us moved. Growling the foulest imprecations, he crawled +along the sand till he got hold of the porch and could hoist himself +again upon his crutch. Then he spat into the spring. + +“There!” he cried. “That’s what I think of ye. Before an hour’s out, +I’ll stove in your old block house like a rum puncheon. Laugh, by +thunder, laugh! Before an hour’s out, ye’ll laugh upon the other side. +Them that die’ll be the lucky ones.” + +And with a dreadful oath he stumbled off, ploughed down the sand, was +helped across the stockade, after four or five failures, by the man with +the flag of truce, and disappeared in an instant afterwards among the +trees. + + + + +XXI +The Attack + + +As soon as Silver disappeared, the captain, who had been closely +watching him, turned towards the interior of the house and found not a +man of us at his post but Gray. It was the first time we had ever seen +him angry. + +“Quarters!” he roared. And then, as we all slunk back to our places, +“Gray,” he said, “I’ll put your name in the log; you’ve stood by your +duty like a seaman. Mr. Trelawney, I’m surprised at you, sir. Doctor, +I thought you had worn the king’s coat! If that was how you served at +Fontenoy, sir, you’d have been better in your berth.” + +The doctor’s watch were all back at their loopholes, the rest were busy +loading the spare muskets, and everyone with a red face, you may be +certain, and a flea in his ear, as the saying is. + +The captain looked on for a while in silence. Then he spoke. + +“My lads,” said he, “I’ve given Silver a broadside. I pitched it in +red-hot on purpose; and before the hour’s out, as he said, we shall be +boarded. We’re outnumbered, I needn’t tell you that, but we fight in +shelter; and a minute ago I should have said we fought with discipline. +I’ve no manner of doubt that we can drub them, if you choose.” + +Then he went the rounds and saw, as he said, that all was clear. + +On the two short sides of the house, east and west, there were only two +loopholes; on the south side where the porch was, two again; and on the +north side, five. There was a round score of muskets for the seven +of us; the firewood had been built into four piles--tables, you might +say--one about the middle of each side, and on each of these tables some +ammunition and four loaded muskets were laid ready to the hand of the +defenders. In the middle, the cutlasses lay ranged. + +“Toss out the fire,” said the captain; “the chill is past, and we +mustn’t have smoke in our eyes.” + +The iron fire-basket was carried bodily out by Mr. Trelawney, and the +embers smothered among sand. + +“Hawkins hasn’t had his breakfast. Hawkins, help yourself, and back to +your post to eat it,” continued Captain Smollett. “Lively, now, my lad; +you’ll want it before you’ve done. Hunter, serve out a round of brandy +to all hands.” + +And while this was going on, the captain completed, in his own mind, the +plan of the defence. + +“Doctor, you will take the door,” he resumed. “See, and don’t expose +yourself; keep within, and fire through the porch. Hunter, take the east +side, there. Joyce, you stand by the west, my man. Mr. Trelawney, you +are the best shot--you and Gray will take this long north side, with the +five loopholes; it’s there the danger is. If they can get up to it and +fire in upon us through our own ports, things would begin to look dirty. +Hawkins, neither you nor I are much account at the shooting; we’ll stand +by to load and bear a hand.” + +As the captain had said, the chill was past. As soon as the sun had +climbed above our girdle of trees, it fell with all its force upon the +clearing and drank up the vapours at a draught. Soon the sand was baking +and the resin melting in the logs of the block house. Jackets and coats +were flung aside, shirts thrown open at the neck and rolled up to the +shoulders; and we stood there, each at his post, in a fever of heat and +anxiety. + +An hour passed away. + +“Hang them!” said the captain. “This is as dull as the doldrums. Gray, +whistle for a wind.” + +And just at that moment came the first news of the attack. + +“If you please, sir,” said Joyce, “if I see anyone, am I to fire?” + +“I told you so!” cried the captain. + +“Thank you, sir,” returned Joyce with the same quiet civility. + +Nothing followed for a time, but the remark had set us all on the alert, +straining ears and eyes--the musketeers with their pieces balanced in +their hands, the captain out in the middle of the block house with his +mouth very tight and a frown on his face. + +So some seconds passed, till suddenly Joyce whipped up his musket +and fired. The report had scarcely died away ere it was repeated and +repeated from without in a scattering volley, shot behind shot, like +a string of geese, from every side of the enclosure. Several bullets +struck the log-house, but not one entered; and as the smoke cleared away +and vanished, the stockade and the woods around it looked as quiet and +empty as before. Not a bough waved, not the gleam of a musket-barrel +betrayed the presence of our foes. + +“Did you hit your man?” asked the captain. + +“No, sir,” replied Joyce. “I believe not, sir.” + +“Next best thing to tell the truth,” muttered Captain Smollett. “Load +his gun, Hawkins. How many should say there were on your side, doctor?” + +“I know precisely,” said Dr. Livesey. “Three shots were fired on this +side. I saw the three flashes--two close together--one farther to the +west.” + +“Three!” repeated the captain. “And how many on yours, Mr. Trelawney?” + +But this was not so easily answered. There had come many from the +north--seven by the squire’s computation, eight or nine according to +Gray. From the east and west only a single shot had been fired. It was +plain, therefore, that the attack would be developed from the north and +that on the other three sides we were only to be annoyed by a show of +hostilities. But Captain Smollett made no change in his arrangements. If +the mutineers succeeded in crossing the stockade, he argued, they would +take possession of any unprotected loophole and shoot us down like rats +in our own stronghold. + +Nor had we much time left to us for thought. Suddenly, with a loud +huzza, a little cloud of pirates leaped from the woods on the north side +and ran straight on the stockade. At the same moment, the fire was once +more opened from the woods, and a rifle ball sang through the doorway +and knocked the doctor’s musket into bits. + +The boarders swarmed over the fence like monkeys. Squire and Gray fired +again and yet again; three men fell, one forwards into the enclosure, +two back on the outside. But of these, one was evidently more frightened +than hurt, for he was on his feet again in a crack and instantly +disappeared among the trees. + +Two had bit the dust, one had fled, four had made good their footing +inside our defences, while from the shelter of the woods seven or eight +men, each evidently supplied with several muskets, kept up a hot though +useless fire on the log-house. + +The four who had boarded made straight before them for the building, +shouting as they ran, and the men among the trees shouted back to +encourage them. Several shots were fired, but such was the hurry of the +marksmen that not one appears to have taken effect. In a moment, the +four pirates had swarmed up the mound and were upon us. + +The head of Job Anderson, the boatswain, appeared at the middle +loophole. + +“At ’em, all hands--all hands!” he roared in a voice of thunder. + +At the same moment, another pirate grasped Hunter’s musket by the +muzzle, wrenched it from his hands, plucked it through the loophole, +and with one stunning blow, laid the poor fellow senseless on the floor. +Meanwhile a third, running unharmed all around the house, appeared +suddenly in the doorway and fell with his cutlass on the doctor. + +Our position was utterly reversed. A moment since we were firing, under +cover, at an exposed enemy; now it was we who lay uncovered and could +not return a blow. + +The log-house was full of smoke, to which we owed our comparative +safety. Cries and confusion, the flashes and reports of pistol-shots, +and one loud groan rang in my ears. + +“Out, lads, out, and fight ’em in the open! Cutlasses!” cried the +captain. + +I snatched a cutlass from the pile, and someone, at the same time +snatching another, gave me a cut across the knuckles which I hardly +felt. I dashed out of the door into the clear sunlight. Someone was +close behind, I knew not whom. Right in front, the doctor was pursuing +his assailant down the hill, and just as my eyes fell upon him, beat +down his guard and sent him sprawling on his back with a great slash +across the face. + +“Round the house, lads! Round the house!” cried the captain; and even in +the hurly-burly, I perceived a change in his voice. + +Mechanically, I obeyed, turned eastwards, and with my cutlass raised, +ran round the corner of the house. Next moment I was face to face +with Anderson. He roared aloud, and his hanger went up above his head, +flashing in the sunlight. I had not time to be afraid, but as the blow +still hung impending, leaped in a trice upon one side, and missing my +foot in the soft sand, rolled headlong down the slope. + +When I had first sallied from the door, the other mutineers had been +already swarming up the palisade to make an end of us. One man, in a red +night-cap, with his cutlass in his mouth, had even got upon the top and +thrown a leg across. Well, so short had been the interval that when I +found my feet again all was in the same posture, the fellow with the red +night-cap still half-way over, another still just showing his head above +the top of the stockade. And yet, in this breath of time, the fight was +over and the victory was ours. + +Gray, following close behind me, had cut down the big boatswain ere +he had time to recover from his last blow. Another had been shot at a +loophole in the very act of firing into the house and now lay in agony, +the pistol still smoking in his hand. A third, as I had seen, the doctor +had disposed of at a blow. Of the four who had scaled the palisade, one +only remained unaccounted for, and he, having left his cutlass on the +field, was now clambering out again with the fear of death upon him. + +“Fire--fire from the house!” cried the doctor. “And you, lads, back into +cover.” + +But his words were unheeded, no shot was fired, and the last boarder +made good his escape and disappeared with the rest into the wood. In +three seconds nothing remained of the attacking party but the five who +had fallen, four on the inside and one on the outside of the palisade. + +The doctor and Gray and I ran full speed for shelter. The survivors +would soon be back where they had left their muskets, and at any moment +the fire might recommence. + +The house was by this time somewhat cleared of smoke, and we saw at +a glance the price we had paid for victory. Hunter lay beside his +loophole, stunned; Joyce by his, shot through the head, never to move +again; while right in the centre, the squire was supporting the captain, +one as pale as the other. + +“The captain’s wounded,” said Mr. Trelawney. + +“Have they run?” asked Mr. Smollett. + +“All that could, you may be bound,” returned the doctor; “but there’s +five of them will never run again.” + +“Five!” cried the captain. “Come, that’s better. Five against three +leaves us four to nine. That’s better odds than we had at starting. We +were seven to nineteen then, or thought we were, and that’s as bad to +bear.” * + +*The mutineers were soon only eight in number, for the man shot by Mr. +Trelawney on board the schooner died that same evening of his wound. But +this was, of course, not known till after by the faithful party. + + + + +PART FIVE--My Sea Adventure + + + + +XXII +How I Began My Sea Adventure + + +There was no return of the mutineers--not so much as another shot out of +the woods. They had “got their rations for that day,” as the captain put +it, and we had the place to ourselves and a quiet time to overhaul the +wounded and get dinner. Squire and I cooked outside in spite of the +danger, and even outside we could hardly tell what we were at, for +horror of the loud groans that reached us from the doctor’s patients. + +Out of the eight men who had fallen in the action, only three still +breathed--that one of the pirates who had been shot at the loophole, +Hunter, and Captain Smollett; and of these, the first two were as good +as dead; the mutineer indeed died under the doctor’s knife, and Hunter, +do what we could, never recovered consciousness in this world. He +lingered all day, breathing loudly like the old buccaneer at home in his +apoplectic fit, but the bones of his chest had been crushed by the +blow and his skull fractured in falling, and some time in the following +night, without sign or sound, he went to his Maker. + +As for the captain, his wounds were grievous indeed, but not dangerous. +No organ was fatally injured. Anderson’s ball--for it was Job that +shot him first--had broken his shoulder-blade and touched the lung, not +badly; the second had only torn and displaced some muscles in the calf. +He was sure to recover, the doctor said, but in the meantime, and for +weeks to come, he must not walk nor move his arm, nor so much as speak +when he could help it. + +My own accidental cut across the knuckles was a flea-bite. Doctor +Livesey patched it up with plaster and pulled my ears for me into the +bargain. + +After dinner the squire and the doctor sat by the captain’s side awhile +in consultation; and when they had talked to their hearts’ content, it +being then a little past noon, the doctor took up his hat and pistols, +girt on a cutlass, put the chart in his pocket, and with a musket over +his shoulder crossed the palisade on the north side and set off briskly +through the trees. + +Gray and I were sitting together at the far end of the block house, to +be out of earshot of our officers consulting; and Gray took his pipe out +of his mouth and fairly forgot to put it back again, so thunder-struck +he was at this occurrence. + +“Why, in the name of Davy Jones,” said he, “is Dr. Livesey mad?” + +“Why no,” says I. “He’s about the last of this crew for that, I take +it.” + +“Well, shipmate,” said Gray, “mad he may not be; but if HE’S not, you +mark my words, I am.” + +“I take it,” replied I, “the doctor has his idea; and if I am right, +he’s going now to see Ben Gunn.” + +I was right, as appeared later; but in the meantime, the house being +stifling hot and the little patch of sand inside the palisade ablaze +with midday sun, I began to get another thought into my head, which was +not by any means so right. What I began to do was to envy the doctor +walking in the cool shadow of the woods with the birds about him and the +pleasant smell of the pines, while I sat grilling, with my clothes +stuck to the hot resin, and so much blood about me and so many poor +dead bodies lying all around that I took a disgust of the place that was +almost as strong as fear. + +All the time I was washing out the block house, and then washing up +the things from dinner, this disgust and envy kept growing stronger +and stronger, till at last, being near a bread-bag, and no one then +observing me, I took the first step towards my escapade and filled both +pockets of my coat with biscuit. + +I was a fool, if you like, and certainly I was going to do a foolish, +over-bold act; but I was determined to do it with all the precautions in +my power. These biscuits, should anything befall me, would keep me, at +least, from starving till far on in the next day. + +The next thing I laid hold of was a brace of pistols, and as I already +had a powder-horn and bullets, I felt myself well supplied with arms. + +As for the scheme I had in my head, it was not a bad one in itself. I +was to go down the sandy spit that divides the anchorage on the east +from the open sea, find the white rock I had observed last evening, and +ascertain whether it was there or not that Ben Gunn had hidden his boat, +a thing quite worth doing, as I still believe. But as I was certain I +should not be allowed to leave the enclosure, my only plan was to take +French leave and slip out when nobody was watching, and that was so bad +a way of doing it as made the thing itself wrong. But I was only a boy, +and I had made my mind up. + +Well, as things at last fell out, I found an admirable opportunity. The +squire and Gray were busy helping the captain with his bandages, the +coast was clear, I made a bolt for it over the stockade and into the +thickest of the trees, and before my absence was observed I was out of +cry of my companions. + +This was my second folly, far worse than the first, as I left but two +sound men to guard the house; but like the first, it was a help towards +saving all of us. + +I took my way straight for the east coast of the island, for I was +determined to go down the sea side of the spit to avoid all chance of +observation from the anchorage. It was already late in the afternoon, +although still warm and sunny. As I continued to thread the tall woods, +I could hear from far before me not only the continuous thunder of the +surf, but a certain tossing of foliage and grinding of boughs which +showed me the sea breeze had set in higher than usual. Soon cool +draughts of air began to reach me, and a few steps farther I came forth +into the open borders of the grove, and saw the sea lying blue and sunny +to the horizon and the surf tumbling and tossing its foam along the +beach. + +I have never seen the sea quiet round Treasure Island. The sun might +blaze overhead, the air be without a breath, the surface smooth and +blue, but still these great rollers would be running along all the +external coast, thundering and thundering by day and night; and I scarce +believe there is one spot in the island where a man would be out of +earshot of their noise. + +I walked along beside the surf with great enjoyment, till, thinking +I was now got far enough to the south, I took the cover of some thick +bushes and crept warily up to the ridge of the spit. + +Behind me was the sea, in front the anchorage. The sea breeze, as though +it had the sooner blown itself out by its unusual violence, was already +at an end; it had been succeeded by light, variable airs from the south +and south-east, carrying great banks of fog; and the anchorage, under +lee of Skeleton Island, lay still and leaden as when first we entered +it. The HISPANIOLA, in that unbroken mirror, was exactly portrayed from +the truck to the waterline, the Jolly Roger hanging from her peak. + +Alongside lay one of the gigs, Silver in the stern-sheets--him I could +always recognize--while a couple of men were leaning over the stern +bulwarks, one of them with a red cap--the very rogue that I had seen +some hours before stride-legs upon the palisade. Apparently they were +talking and laughing, though at that distance--upwards of a mile--I +could, of course, hear no word of what was said. All at once there began +the most horrid, unearthly screaming, which at first startled me badly, +though I had soon remembered the voice of Captain Flint and even thought +I could make out the bird by her bright plumage as she sat perched upon +her master’s wrist. + +Soon after, the jolly-boat shoved off and pulled for shore, and the man +with the red cap and his comrade went below by the cabin companion. + +Just about the same time, the sun had gone down behind the Spy-glass, +and as the fog was collecting rapidly, it began to grow dark in earnest. +I saw I must lose no time if I were to find the boat that evening. + +The white rock, visible enough above the brush, was still some eighth of +a mile further down the spit, and it took me a goodish while to get up +with it, crawling, often on all fours, among the scrub. Night had almost +come when I laid my hand on its rough sides. Right below it there was +an exceedingly small hollow of green turf, hidden by banks and a thick +underwood about knee-deep, that grew there very plentifully; and in the +centre of the dell, sure enough, a little tent of goat-skins, like what +the gipsies carry about with them in England. + +I dropped into the hollow, lifted the side of the tent, and there was +Ben Gunn’s boat--home-made if ever anything was home-made; a rude, +lop-sided framework of tough wood, and stretched upon that a covering of +goat-skin, with the hair inside. The thing was extremely small, even +for me, and I can hardly imagine that it could have floated with a +full-sized man. There was one thwart set as low as possible, a kind of +stretcher in the bows, and a double paddle for propulsion. + +I had not then seen a coracle, such as the ancient Britons made, but +I have seen one since, and I can give you no fairer idea of Ben Gunn’s +boat than by saying it was like the first and the worst coracle ever +made by man. But the great advantage of the coracle it certainly +possessed, for it was exceedingly light and portable. + +Well, now that I had found the boat, you would have thought I had had +enough of truantry for once, but in the meantime I had taken another +notion and become so obstinately fond of it that I would have carried +it out, I believe, in the teeth of Captain Smollett himself. This was +to slip out under cover of the night, cut the HISPANIOLA adrift, and let +her go ashore where she fancied. I had quite made up my mind that the +mutineers, after their repulse of the morning, had nothing nearer their +hearts than to up anchor and away to sea; this, I thought, it would be +a fine thing to prevent, and now that I had seen how they left their +watchmen unprovided with a boat, I thought it might be done with little +risk. + +Down I sat to wait for darkness, and made a hearty meal of biscuit. It +was a night out of ten thousand for my purpose. The fog had now buried +all heaven. As the last rays of daylight dwindled and disappeared, +absolute blackness settled down on Treasure Island. And when, at last, +I shouldered the coracle and groped my way stumblingly out of the hollow +where I had supped, there were but two points visible on the whole +anchorage. + +One was the great fire on shore, by which the defeated pirates lay +carousing in the swamp. The other, a mere blur of light upon the +darkness, indicated the position of the anchored ship. She had swung +round to the ebb--her bow was now towards me--the only lights on board +were in the cabin, and what I saw was merely a reflection on the fog of +the strong rays that flowed from the stern window. + +The ebb had already run some time, and I had to wade through a long belt +of swampy sand, where I sank several times above the ankle, before I +came to the edge of the retreating water, and wading a little way in, +with some strength and dexterity, set my coracle, keel downwards, on the +surface. + + + + +XXIII +The Ebb-tide Runs + + +The coracle--as I had ample reason to know before I was done with +her--was a very safe boat for a person of my height and weight, both +buoyant and clever in a seaway; but she was the most cross-grained, +lop-sided craft to manage. Do as you pleased, she always made more +leeway than anything else, and turning round and round was the manoeuvre +she was best at. Even Ben Gunn himself has admitted that she was “queer +to handle till you knew her way.” + +Certainly I did not know her way. She turned in every direction but the +one I was bound to go; the most part of the time we were broadside on, +and I am very sure I never should have made the ship at all but for the +tide. By good fortune, paddle as I pleased, the tide was still sweeping +me down; and there lay the HISPANIOLA right in the fairway, hardly to be +missed. + +First she loomed before me like a blot of something yet blacker than +darkness, then her spars and hull began to take shape, and the next +moment, as it seemed (for, the farther I went, the brisker grew the +current of the ebb), I was alongside of her hawser and had laid hold. + +The hawser was as taut as a bowstring, and the current so strong she +pulled upon her anchor. All round the hull, in the blackness, the +rippling current bubbled and chattered like a little mountain stream. +One cut with my sea-gully and the HISPANIOLA would go humming down the +tide. + +So far so good, but it next occurred to my recollection that a taut +hawser, suddenly cut, is a thing as dangerous as a kicking horse. Ten to +one, if I were so foolhardy as to cut the HISPANIOLA from her anchor, I +and the coracle would be knocked clean out of the water. + +This brought me to a full stop, and if fortune had not again +particularly favoured me, I should have had to abandon my design. But +the light airs which had begun blowing from the south-east and south +had hauled round after nightfall into the south-west. Just while I was +meditating, a puff came, caught the HISPANIOLA, and forced her up into +the current; and to my great joy, I felt the hawser slacken in my grasp, +and the hand by which I held it dip for a second under water. + +With that I made my mind up, took out my gully, opened it with my teeth, +and cut one strand after another, till the vessel swung only by two. +Then I lay quiet, waiting to sever these last when the strain should be +once more lightened by a breath of wind. + +All this time I had heard the sound of loud voices from the cabin, but +to say truth, my mind had been so entirely taken up with other thoughts +that I had scarcely given ear. Now, however, when I had nothing else to +do, I began to pay more heed. + +One I recognized for the coxswain’s, Israel Hands, that had been Flint’s +gunner in former days. The other was, of course, my friend of the red +night-cap. Both men were plainly the worse of drink, and they were still +drinking, for even while I was listening, one of them, with a drunken +cry, opened the stern window and threw out something, which I divined to +be an empty bottle. But they were not only tipsy; it was plain that they +were furiously angry. Oaths flew like hailstones, and every now and +then there came forth such an explosion as I thought was sure to end +in blows. But each time the quarrel passed off and the voices grumbled +lower for a while, until the next crisis came and in its turn passed +away without result. + +On shore, I could see the glow of the great camp-fire burning warmly +through the shore-side trees. Someone was singing, a dull, old, droning +sailor’s song, with a droop and a quaver at the end of every verse, +and seemingly no end to it at all but the patience of the singer. I had +heard it on the voyage more than once and remembered these words: + + “But one man of her crew alive, + What put to sea with seventy-five.” + +And I thought it was a ditty rather too dolefully appropriate for a +company that had met such cruel losses in the morning. But, indeed, from +what I saw, all these buccaneers were as callous as the sea they sailed +on. + +At last the breeze came; the schooner sidled and drew nearer in the +dark; I felt the hawser slacken once more, and with a good, tough +effort, cut the last fibres through. + +The breeze had but little action on the coracle, and I was almost +instantly swept against the bows of the HISPANIOLA. At the same time, +the schooner began to turn upon her heel, spinning slowly, end for end, +across the current. + +I wrought like a fiend, for I expected every moment to be swamped; and +since I found I could not push the coracle directly off, I now shoved +straight astern. At length I was clear of my dangerous neighbour, and +just as I gave the last impulsion, my hands came across a light cord +that was trailing overboard across the stern bulwarks. Instantly I +grasped it. + +Why I should have done so I can hardly say. It was at first mere +instinct, but once I had it in my hands and found it fast, curiosity +began to get the upper hand, and I determined I should have one look +through the cabin window. + +I pulled in hand over hand on the cord, and when I judged myself near +enough, rose at infinite risk to about half my height and thus commanded +the roof and a slice of the interior of the cabin. + +By this time the schooner and her little consort were gliding pretty +swiftly through the water; indeed, we had already fetched up level with +the camp-fire. The ship was talking, as sailors say, loudly, treading +the innumerable ripples with an incessant weltering splash; and until I +got my eye above the window-sill I could not comprehend why the watchmen +had taken no alarm. One glance, however, was sufficient; and it was +only one glance that I durst take from that unsteady skiff. It showed me +Hands and his companion locked together in deadly wrestle, each with a +hand upon the other’s throat. + +I dropped upon the thwart again, none too soon, for I was near +overboard. I could see nothing for the moment but these two furious, +encrimsoned faces swaying together under the smoky lamp, and I shut my +eyes to let them grow once more familiar with the darkness. + +The endless ballad had come to an end at last, and the whole diminished +company about the camp-fire had broken into the chorus I had heard so +often: + + “Fifteen men on the dead man’s chest-- + Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum! + Drink and the devil had done for the rest-- + Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!” + +I was just thinking how busy drink and the devil were at that very +moment in the cabin of the HISPANIOLA, when I was surprised by a sudden +lurch of the coracle. At the same moment, she yawed sharply and seemed +to change her course. The speed in the meantime had strangely increased. + +I opened my eyes at once. All round me were little ripples, combing +over with a sharp, bristling sound and slightly phosphorescent. The +HISPANIOLA herself, a few yards in whose wake I was still being whirled +along, seemed to stagger in her course, and I saw her spars toss a +little against the blackness of the night; nay, as I looked longer, I +made sure she also was wheeling to the southward. + +I glanced over my shoulder, and my heart jumped against my ribs. There, +right behind me, was the glow of the camp-fire. The current had turned +at right angles, sweeping round along with it the tall schooner and +the little dancing coracle; ever quickening, ever bubbling higher, ever +muttering louder, it went spinning through the narrows for the open sea. + +Suddenly the schooner in front of me gave a violent yaw, turning, +perhaps, through twenty degrees; and almost at the same moment one +shout followed another from on board; I could hear feet pounding on +the companion ladder and I knew that the two drunkards had at last been +interrupted in their quarrel and awakened to a sense of their disaster. + +I lay down flat in the bottom of that wretched skiff and devoutly +recommended my spirit to its Maker. At the end of the straits, I +made sure we must fall into some bar of raging breakers, where all my +troubles would be ended speedily; and though I could, perhaps, bear to +die, I could not bear to look upon my fate as it approached. + +So I must have lain for hours, continually beaten to and fro upon the +billows, now and again wetted with flying sprays, and never ceasing to +expect death at the next plunge. Gradually weariness grew upon me; a +numbness, an occasional stupor, fell upon my mind even in the midst of +my terrors, until sleep at last supervened and in my sea-tossed coracle +I lay and dreamed of home and the old Admiral Benbow. + + + + +XXIV +The Cruise of the Coracle + + +It was broad day when I awoke and found myself tossing at the south-west +end of Treasure Island. The sun was up but was still hid from me behind +the great bulk of the Spy-glass, which on this side descended almost to +the sea in formidable cliffs. + +Haulbowline Head and Mizzenmast Hill were at my elbow, the hill bare +and dark, the head bound with cliffs forty or fifty feet high and +fringed with great masses of fallen rock. I was scarce a quarter of a +mile to seaward, and it was my first thought to paddle in and land. + +That notion was soon given over. Among the fallen rocks the breakers +spouted and bellowed; loud reverberations, heavy sprays flying and +falling, succeeded one another from second to second; and I saw myself, +if I ventured nearer, dashed to death upon the rough shore or spending +my strength in vain to scale the beetling crags. + +Nor was that all, for crawling together on flat tables of rock or +letting themselves drop into the sea with loud reports I beheld huge +slimy monsters--soft snails, as it were, of incredible bigness--two +or three score of them together, making the rocks to echo with their +barkings. + +I have understood since that they were sea lions, and entirely harmless. +But the look of them, added to the difficulty of the shore and the +high running of the surf, was more than enough to disgust me of that +landing-place. I felt willing rather to starve at sea than to confront +such perils. + +In the meantime I had a better chance, as I supposed, before me. North +of Haulbowline Head, the land runs in a long way, leaving at low tide +a long stretch of yellow sand. To the north of that, again, there comes +another cape--Cape of the Woods, as it was marked upon the chart--buried +in tall green pines, which descended to the margin of the sea. + +I remembered what Silver had said about the current that sets northward +along the whole west coast of Treasure Island, and seeing from my +position that I was already under its influence, I preferred to leave +Haulbowline Head behind me and reserve my strength for an attempt to +land upon the kindlier-looking Cape of the Woods. + +There was a great, smooth swell upon the sea. The wind blowing steady +and gentle from the south, there was no contrariety between that and the +current, and the billows rose and fell unbroken. + +Had it been otherwise, I must long ago have perished; but as it was, +it is surprising how easily and securely my little and light boat could +ride. Often, as I still lay at the bottom and kept no more than an eye +above the gunwale, I would see a big blue summit heaving close above me; +yet the coracle would but bounce a little, dance as if on springs, and +subside on the other side into the trough as lightly as a bird. + +I began after a little to grow very bold and sat up to try my skill at +paddling. But even a small change in the disposition of the weight will +produce violent changes in the behaviour of a coracle. And I had hardly +moved before the boat, giving up at once her gentle dancing movement, +ran straight down a slope of water so steep that it made me giddy, and +struck her nose, with a spout of spray, deep into the side of the next +wave. + +I was drenched and terrified, and fell instantly back into my old +position, whereupon the coracle seemed to find her head again and led +me as softly as before among the billows. It was plain she was not to be +interfered with, and at that rate, since I could in no way influence her +course, what hope had I left of reaching land? + +I began to be horribly frightened, but I kept my head, for all that. +First, moving with all care, I gradually baled out the coracle with my +sea-cap; then, getting my eye once more above the gunwale, I set myself +to study how it was she managed to slip so quietly through the rollers. + +I found each wave, instead of the big, smooth glossy mountain it looks +from shore or from a vessel’s deck, was for all the world like any range +of hills on dry land, full of peaks and smooth places and valleys. The +coracle, left to herself, turning from side to side, threaded, so to +speak, her way through these lower parts and avoided the steep slopes +and higher, toppling summits of the wave. + +“Well, now,” thought I to myself, “it is plain I must lie where I am and +not disturb the balance; but it is plain also that I can put the paddle +over the side and from time to time, in smooth places, give her a shove +or two towards land.” No sooner thought upon than done. There I lay on +my elbows in the most trying attitude, and every now and again gave a +weak stroke or two to turn her head to shore. + +It was very tiring and slow work, yet I did visibly gain ground; and as +we drew near the Cape of the Woods, though I saw I must infallibly +miss that point, I had still made some hundred yards of easting. I was, +indeed, close in. I could see the cool green tree-tops swaying together +in the breeze, and I felt sure I should make the next promontory without +fail. + +It was high time, for I now began to be tortured with thirst. The glow +of the sun from above, its thousandfold reflection from the waves, the +sea-water that fell and dried upon me, caking my very lips with salt, +combined to make my throat burn and my brain ache. The sight of the +trees so near at hand had almost made me sick with longing, but the +current had soon carried me past the point, and as the next reach of sea +opened out, I beheld a sight that changed the nature of my thoughts. + +Right in front of me, not half a mile away, I beheld the HISPANIOLA +under sail. I made sure, of course, that I should be taken; but I was +so distressed for want of water that I scarce knew whether to be glad +or sorry at the thought, and long before I had come to a conclusion, +surprise had taken entire possession of my mind and I could do nothing +but stare and wonder. + +The HISPANIOLA was under her main-sail and two jibs, and the beautiful +white canvas shone in the sun like snow or silver. When I first +sighted her, all her sails were drawing; she was lying a course about +north-west, and I presumed the men on board were going round the island +on their way back to the anchorage. Presently she began to fetch more +and more to the westward, so that I thought they had sighted me and were +going about in chase. At last, however, she fell right into the wind’s +eye, was taken dead aback, and stood there awhile helpless, with her +sails shivering. + +“Clumsy fellows,” said I; “they must still be drunk as owls.” And I +thought how Captain Smollett would have set them skipping. + +Meanwhile the schooner gradually fell off and filled again upon another +tack, sailed swiftly for a minute or so, and brought up once more dead +in the wind’s eye. Again and again was this repeated. To and fro, up and +down, north, south, east, and west, the HISPANIOLA sailed by swoops +and dashes, and at each repetition ended as she had begun, with idly +flapping canvas. It became plain to me that nobody was steering. And if +so, where were the men? Either they were dead drunk or had deserted her, +I thought, and perhaps if I could get on board I might return the vessel +to her captain. + +The current was bearing coracle and schooner southward at an equal rate. +As for the latter’s sailing, it was so wild and intermittent, and she +hung each time so long in irons, that she certainly gained nothing, if +she did not even lose. If only I dared to sit up and paddle, I made +sure that I could overhaul her. The scheme had an air of adventure +that inspired me, and the thought of the water breaker beside the fore +companion doubled my growing courage. + +Up I got, was welcomed almost instantly by another cloud of spray, but +this time stuck to my purpose and set myself, with all my strength and +caution, to paddle after the unsteered HISPANIOLA. Once I shipped a sea +so heavy that I had to stop and bail, with my heart fluttering like +a bird, but gradually I got into the way of the thing and guided my +coracle among the waves, with only now and then a blow upon her bows and +a dash of foam in my face. + +I was now gaining rapidly on the schooner; I could see the brass glisten +on the tiller as it banged about, and still no soul appeared upon her +decks. I could not choose but suppose she was deserted. If not, the men +were lying drunk below, where I might batten them down, perhaps, and do +what I chose with the ship. + +For some time she had been doing the worse thing possible for +me--standing still. She headed nearly due south, yawing, of course, all +the time. Each time she fell off, her sails partly filled, and these +brought her in a moment right to the wind again. I have said this was +the worst thing possible for me, for helpless as she looked in this +situation, with the canvas cracking like cannon and the blocks trundling +and banging on the deck, she still continued to run away from me, not +only with the speed of the current, but by the whole amount of her +leeway, which was naturally great. + +But now, at last, I had my chance. The breeze fell for some seconds, +very low, and the current gradually turning her, the HISPANIOLA revolved +slowly round her centre and at last presented me her stern, with the +cabin window still gaping open and the lamp over the table still burning +on into the day. The main-sail hung drooped like a banner. She was +stock-still but for the current. + +For the last little while I had even lost, but now redoubling my +efforts, I began once more to overhaul the chase. + +I was not a hundred yards from her when the wind came again in a clap; +she filled on the port tack and was off again, stooping and skimming +like a swallow. + +My first impulse was one of despair, but my second was towards joy. +Round she came, till she was broadside on to me--round still till she +had covered a half and then two thirds and then three quarters of the +distance that separated us. I could see the waves boiling white under +her forefoot. Immensely tall she looked to me from my low station in the +coracle. + +And then, of a sudden, I began to comprehend. I had scarce time to +think--scarce time to act and save myself. I was on the summit of one +swell when the schooner came stooping over the next. The bowsprit was +over my head. I sprang to my feet and leaped, stamping the coracle under +water. With one hand I caught the jib-boom, while my foot was lodged +between the stay and the brace; and as I still clung there panting, a +dull blow told me that the schooner had charged down upon and struck the +coracle and that I was left without retreat on the HISPANIOLA. + + + + +XXV +I Strike the Jolly Roger + + +I had scarce gained a position on the bowsprit when the flying jib +flapped and filled upon the other tack, with a report like a gun. The +schooner trembled to her keel under the reverse, but next moment, the +other sails still drawing, the jib flapped back again and hung idle. + +This had nearly tossed me off into the sea; and now I lost no time, +crawled back along the bowsprit, and tumbled head foremost on the deck. + +I was on the lee side of the forecastle, and the mainsail, which was +still drawing, concealed from me a certain portion of the after-deck. +Not a soul was to be seen. The planks, which had not been swabbed since +the mutiny, bore the print of many feet, and an empty bottle, broken by +the neck, tumbled to and fro like a live thing in the scuppers. + +Suddenly the HISPANIOLA came right into the wind. The jibs behind me +cracked aloud, the rudder slammed to, the whole ship gave a sickening +heave and shudder, and at the same moment the main-boom swung inboard, +the sheet groaning in the blocks, and showed me the lee after-deck. + +There were the two watchmen, sure enough: red-cap on his back, as stiff +as a handspike, with his arms stretched out like those of a crucifix and +his teeth showing through his open lips; Israel Hands propped against +the bulwarks, his chin on his chest, his hands lying open before him on +the deck, his face as white, under its tan, as a tallow candle. + +For a while the ship kept bucking and sidling like a vicious horse, the +sails filling, now on one tack, now on another, and the boom swinging to +and fro till the mast groaned aloud under the strain. Now and again too +there would come a cloud of light sprays over the bulwark and a heavy +blow of the ship’s bows against the swell; so much heavier weather was +made of it by this great rigged ship than by my home-made, lop-sided +coracle, now gone to the bottom of the sea. + +At every jump of the schooner, red-cap slipped to and fro, but--what was +ghastly to behold--neither his attitude nor his fixed teeth-disclosing +grin was anyway disturbed by this rough usage. At every jump too, Hands +appeared still more to sink into himself and settle down upon the +deck, his feet sliding ever the farther out, and the whole body canting +towards the stern, so that his face became, little by little, hid +from me; and at last I could see nothing beyond his ear and the frayed +ringlet of one whisker. + +At the same time, I observed, around both of them, splashes of dark +blood upon the planks and began to feel sure that they had killed each +other in their drunken wrath. + +While I was thus looking and wondering, in a calm moment, when the ship +was still, Israel Hands turned partly round and with a low moan writhed +himself back to the position in which I had seen him first. The moan, +which told of pain and deadly weakness, and the way in which his jaw +hung open went right to my heart. But when I remembered the talk I had +overheard from the apple barrel, all pity left me. + +I walked aft until I reached the main-mast. + +“Come aboard, Mr. Hands,” I said ironically. + +He rolled his eyes round heavily, but he was too far gone to express +surprise. All he could do was to utter one word, “Brandy.” + +It occurred to me there was no time to lose, and dodging the boom as it +once more lurched across the deck, I slipped aft and down the companion +stairs into the cabin. + +It was such a scene of confusion as you can hardly fancy. All the +lockfast places had been broken open in quest of the chart. The floor +was thick with mud where ruffians had sat down to drink or consult after +wading in the marshes round their camp. The bulkheads, all painted in +clear white and beaded round with gilt, bore a pattern of dirty hands. +Dozens of empty bottles clinked together in corners to the rolling of +the ship. One of the doctor’s medical books lay open on the table, half +of the leaves gutted out, I suppose, for pipelights. In the midst of all +this the lamp still cast a smoky glow, obscure and brown as umber. + +I went into the cellar; all the barrels were gone, and of the bottles +a most surprising number had been drunk out and thrown away. Certainly, +since the mutiny began, not a man of them could ever have been sober. + +Foraging about, I found a bottle with some brandy left, for Hands; and +for myself I routed out some biscuit, some pickled fruits, a great bunch +of raisins, and a piece of cheese. With these I came on deck, put down +my own stock behind the rudder head and well out of the coxswain’s +reach, went forward to the water-breaker, and had a good deep drink of +water, and then, and not till then, gave Hands the brandy. + +He must have drunk a gill before he took the bottle from his mouth. + +“Aye,” said he, “by thunder, but I wanted some o’ that!” + +I had sat down already in my own corner and begun to eat. + +“Much hurt?” I asked him. + +He grunted, or rather, I might say, he barked. + +“If that doctor was aboard,” he said, “I’d be right enough in a couple +of turns, but I don’t have no manner of luck, you see, and that’s what’s +the matter with me. As for that swab, he’s good and dead, he is,” he +added, indicating the man with the red cap. “He warn’t no seaman anyhow. +And where mought you have come from?” + +“Well,” said I, “I’ve come aboard to take possession of this ship, +Mr. Hands; and you’ll please regard me as your captain until further +notice.” + +He looked at me sourly enough but said nothing. Some of the colour had +come back into his cheeks, though he still looked very sick and still +continued to slip out and settle down as the ship banged about. + +“By the by,” I continued, “I can’t have these colours, Mr. Hands; and by +your leave, I’ll strike ’em. Better none than these.” + +And again dodging the boom, I ran to the colour lines, handed down their +cursed black flag, and chucked it overboard. + +“God save the king!” said I, waving my cap. “And there’s an end to +Captain Silver!” + +He watched me keenly and slyly, his chin all the while on his breast. + +“I reckon,” he said at last, “I reckon, Cap’n Hawkins, you’ll kind of +want to get ashore now. S’pose we talks.” + +“Why, yes,” says I, “with all my heart, Mr. Hands. Say on.” And I went +back to my meal with a good appetite. + +“This man,” he began, nodding feebly at the corpse “--O’Brien were his +name, a rank Irelander--this man and me got the canvas on her, meaning +for to sail her back. Well, HE’S dead now, he is--as dead as bilge; and +who’s to sail this ship, I don’t see. Without I gives you a hint, you +ain’t that man, as far’s I can tell. Now, look here, you gives me food +and drink and a old scarf or ankecher to tie my wound up, you do, and +I’ll tell you how to sail her, and that’s about square all round, I take +it.” + +“I’ll tell you one thing,” says I: “I’m not going back to Captain Kidd’s +anchorage. I mean to get into North Inlet and beach her quietly there.” + +“To be sure you did,” he cried. “Why, I ain’t sich an infernal lubber +after all. I can see, can’t I? I’ve tried my fling, I have, and I’ve +lost, and it’s you has the wind of me. North Inlet? Why, I haven’t no +ch’ice, not I! I’d help you sail her up to Execution Dock, by thunder! +So I would.” + +Well, as it seemed to me, there was some sense in this. We struck our +bargain on the spot. In three minutes I had the HISPANIOLA sailing +easily before the wind along the coast of Treasure Island, with good +hopes of turning the northern point ere noon and beating down again as +far as North Inlet before high water, when we might beach her safely and +wait till the subsiding tide permitted us to land. + +Then I lashed the tiller and went below to my own chest, where I got a +soft silk handkerchief of my mother’s. With this, and with my aid, Hands +bound up the great bleeding stab he had received in the thigh, and after +he had eaten a little and had a swallow or two more of the brandy, he +began to pick up visibly, sat straighter up, spoke louder and clearer, +and looked in every way another man. + +The breeze served us admirably. We skimmed before it like a bird, the +coast of the island flashing by and the view changing every minute. +Soon we were past the high lands and bowling beside low, sandy country, +sparsely dotted with dwarf pines, and soon we were beyond that again +and had turned the corner of the rocky hill that ends the island on the +north. + +I was greatly elated with my new command, and pleased with the bright, +sunshiny weather and these different prospects of the coast. I had now +plenty of water and good things to eat, and my conscience, which had +smitten me hard for my desertion, was quieted by the great conquest I +had made. I should, I think, have had nothing left me to desire but for +the eyes of the coxswain as they followed me derisively about the deck +and the odd smile that appeared continually on his face. It was a smile +that had in it something both of pain and weakness--a haggard old man’s +smile; but there was, besides that, a grain of derision, a shadow of +treachery, in his expression as he craftily watched, and watched, and +watched me at my work. + + + + +XXVI +Israel Hands + + +The wind, serving us to a desire, now hauled into the west. We could run +so much the easier from the north-east corner of the island to the mouth +of the North Inlet. Only, as we had no power to anchor and dared not +beach her till the tide had flowed a good deal farther, time hung on our +hands. The coxswain told me how to lay the ship to; after a good many +trials I succeeded, and we both sat in silence over another meal. + +“Cap’n,” said he at length with that same uncomfortable smile, “here’s +my old shipmate, O’Brien; s’pose you was to heave him overboard. I ain’t +partic’lar as a rule, and I don’t take no blame for settling his hash, +but I don’t reckon him ornamental now, do you?” + +“I’m not strong enough, and I don’t like the job; and there he lies, for +me,” said I. + +“This here’s an unlucky ship, this HISPANIOLA, Jim,” he went on, +blinking. “There’s a power of men been killed in this HISPANIOLA--a +sight o’ poor seamen dead and gone since you and me took ship to +Bristol. I never seen sich dirty luck, not I. There was this here +O’Brien now--he’s dead, ain’t he? Well now, I’m no scholar, and you’re a +lad as can read and figure, and to put it straight, do you take it as a +dead man is dead for good, or do he come alive again?” + +“You can kill the body, Mr. Hands, but not the spirit; you must know +that already,” I replied. “O’Brien there is in another world, and may be +watching us.” + +“Ah!” says he. “Well, that’s unfort’nate--appears as if killing parties +was a waste of time. Howsomever, sperrits don’t reckon for much, by what +I’ve seen. I’ll chance it with the sperrits, Jim. And now, you’ve spoke +up free, and I’ll take it kind if you’d step down into that there cabin +and get me a--well, a--shiver my timbers! I can’t hit the name on ’t; +well, you get me a bottle of wine, Jim--this here brandy’s too strong +for my head.” + +Now, the coxswain’s hesitation seemed to be unnatural, and as for the +notion of his preferring wine to brandy, I entirely disbelieved it. The +whole story was a pretext. He wanted me to leave the deck--so much was +plain; but with what purpose I could in no way imagine. His eyes never +met mine; they kept wandering to and fro, up and down, now with a look +to the sky, now with a flitting glance upon the dead O’Brien. All the +time he kept smiling and putting his tongue out in the most guilty, +embarrassed manner, so that a child could have told that he was bent on +some deception. I was prompt with my answer, however, for I saw where +my advantage lay and that with a fellow so densely stupid I could easily +conceal my suspicions to the end. + +“Some wine?” I said. “Far better. Will you have white or red?” + +“Well, I reckon it’s about the blessed same to me, shipmate,” he +replied; “so it’s strong, and plenty of it, what’s the odds?” + +“All right,” I answered. “I’ll bring you port, Mr. Hands. But I’ll have +to dig for it.” + +With that I scuttled down the companion with all the noise I could, +slipped off my shoes, ran quietly along the sparred gallery, mounted the +forecastle ladder, and popped my head out of the fore companion. I +knew he would not expect to see me there, yet I took every precaution +possible, and certainly the worst of my suspicions proved too true. + +He had risen from his position to his hands and knees, and though his +leg obviously hurt him pretty sharply when he moved--for I could hear +him stifle a groan--yet it was at a good, rattling rate that he trailed +himself across the deck. In half a minute he had reached the port +scuppers and picked, out of a coil of rope, a long knife, or rather a +short dirk, discoloured to the hilt with blood. He looked upon it for +a moment, thrusting forth his under jaw, tried the point upon his hand, +and then, hastily concealing it in the bosom of his jacket, trundled +back again into his old place against the bulwark. + +This was all that I required to know. Israel could move about, he was +now armed, and if he had been at so much trouble to get rid of me, +it was plain that I was meant to be the victim. What he would do +afterwards--whether he would try to crawl right across the island from +North Inlet to the camp among the swamps or whether he would fire Long +Tom, trusting that his own comrades might come first to help him--was, +of course, more than I could say. + +Yet I felt sure that I could trust him in one point, since in that +our interests jumped together, and that was in the disposition of +the schooner. We both desired to have her stranded safe enough, in a +sheltered place, and so that, when the time came, she could be got off +again with as little labour and danger as might be; and until that was +done I considered that my life would certainly be spared. + +While I was thus turning the business over in my mind, I had not been +idle with my body. I had stolen back to the cabin, slipped once more +into my shoes, and laid my hand at random on a bottle of wine, and now, +with this for an excuse, I made my reappearance on the deck. + +Hands lay as I had left him, all fallen together in a bundle and with +his eyelids lowered as though he were too weak to bear the light. He +looked up, however, at my coming, knocked the neck off the bottle like +a man who had done the same thing often, and took a good swig, with his +favourite toast of “Here’s luck!” Then he lay quiet for a little, and +then, pulling out a stick of tobacco, begged me to cut him a quid. + +“Cut me a junk o’ that,” says he, “for I haven’t no knife and hardly +strength enough, so be as I had. Ah, Jim, Jim, I reckon I’ve missed +stays! Cut me a quid, as’ll likely be the last, lad, for I’m for my long +home, and no mistake.” + +“Well,” said I, “I’ll cut you some tobacco, but if I was you and thought +myself so badly, I would go to my prayers like a Christian man.” + +“Why?” said he. “Now, you tell me why.” + +“Why?” I cried. “You were asking me just now about the dead. You’ve +broken your trust; you’ve lived in sin and lies and blood; there’s a man +you killed lying at your feet this moment, and you ask me why! For God’s +mercy, Mr. Hands, that’s why.” + +I spoke with a little heat, thinking of the bloody dirk he had hidden +in his pocket and designed, in his ill thoughts, to end me with. He, +for his part, took a great draught of the wine and spoke with the most +unusual solemnity. + +“For thirty years,” he said, “I’ve sailed the seas and seen good and +bad, better and worse, fair weather and foul, provisions running out, +knives going, and what not. Well, now I tell you, I never seen good come +o’ goodness yet. Him as strikes first is my fancy; dead men don’t bite; +them’s my views--amen, so be it. And now, you look here,” he added, +suddenly changing his tone, “we’ve had about enough of this foolery. The +tide’s made good enough by now. You just take my orders, Cap’n Hawkins, +and we’ll sail slap in and be done with it.” + +All told, we had scarce two miles to run; but the navigation was +delicate, the entrance to this northern anchorage was not only narrow +and shoal, but lay east and west, so that the schooner must be nicely +handled to be got in. I think I was a good, prompt subaltern, and I am +very sure that Hands was an excellent pilot, for we went about and about +and dodged in, shaving the banks, with a certainty and a neatness that +were a pleasure to behold. + +Scarcely had we passed the heads before the land closed around us. The +shores of North Inlet were as thickly wooded as those of the southern +anchorage, but the space was longer and narrower and more like, what in +truth it was, the estuary of a river. Right before us, at the southern +end, we saw the wreck of a ship in the last stages of dilapidation. It +had been a great vessel of three masts but had lain so long exposed to +the injuries of the weather that it was hung about with great webs of +dripping seaweed, and on the deck of it shore bushes had taken root and +now flourished thick with flowers. It was a sad sight, but it showed us +that the anchorage was calm. + +“Now,” said Hands, “look there; there’s a pet bit for to beach a ship +in. Fine flat sand, never a cat’s paw, trees all around of it, and +flowers a-blowing like a garding on that old ship.” + +“And once beached,” I inquired, “how shall we get her off again?” + +“Why, so,” he replied: “you take a line ashore there on the other side +at low water, take a turn about one of them big pines; bring it back, +take a turn around the capstan, and lie to for the tide. Come high +water, all hands take a pull upon the line, and off she comes as sweet +as natur’. And now, boy, you stand by. We’re near the bit now, and she’s +too much way on her. Starboard a little--so--steady--starboard--larboard +a little--steady--steady!” + +So he issued his commands, which I breathlessly obeyed, till, all of a +sudden, he cried, “Now, my hearty, luff!” And I put the helm hard up, +and the HISPANIOLA swung round rapidly and ran stem on for the low, +wooded shore. + +The excitement of these last manoeuvres had somewhat interfered with the +watch I had kept hitherto, sharply enough, upon the coxswain. Even then +I was still so much interested, waiting for the ship to touch, that I +had quite forgot the peril that hung over my head and stood craning over +the starboard bulwarks and watching the ripples spreading wide before +the bows. I might have fallen without a struggle for my life had not a +sudden disquietude seized upon me and made me turn my head. Perhaps I +had heard a creak or seen his shadow moving with the tail of my eye; +perhaps it was an instinct like a cat’s; but, sure enough, when I looked +round, there was Hands, already half-way towards me, with the dirk in +his right hand. + +We must both have cried out aloud when our eyes met, but while mine +was the shrill cry of terror, his was a roar of fury like a charging +bully’s. At the same instant, he threw himself forward and I leapt +sideways towards the bows. As I did so, I let go of the tiller, which +sprang sharp to leeward, and I think this saved my life, for it struck +Hands across the chest and stopped him, for the moment, dead. + +Before he could recover, I was safe out of the corner where he had me +trapped, with all the deck to dodge about. Just forward of the main-mast +I stopped, drew a pistol from my pocket, took a cool aim, though he had +already turned and was once more coming directly after me, and drew the +trigger. The hammer fell, but there followed neither flash nor sound; +the priming was useless with sea-water. I cursed myself for my neglect. +Why had not I, long before, reprimed and reloaded my only weapons? Then +I should not have been as now, a mere fleeing sheep before this butcher. + +Wounded as he was, it was wonderful how fast he could move, his grizzled +hair tumbling over his face, and his face itself as red as a red ensign +with his haste and fury. I had no time to try my other pistol, nor +indeed much inclination, for I was sure it would be useless. One thing I +saw plainly: I must not simply retreat before him, or he would speedily +hold me boxed into the bows, as a moment since he had so nearly boxed +me in the stern. Once so caught, and nine or ten inches of the +blood-stained dirk would be my last experience on this side of eternity. +I placed my palms against the main-mast, which was of a goodish bigness, +and waited, every nerve upon the stretch. + +Seeing that I meant to dodge, he also paused; and a moment or two passed +in feints on his part and corresponding movements upon mine. It was such +a game as I had often played at home about the rocks of Black Hill Cove, +but never before, you may be sure, with such a wildly beating heart as +now. Still, as I say, it was a boy’s game, and I thought I could hold +my own at it against an elderly seaman with a wounded thigh. Indeed my +courage had begun to rise so high that I allowed myself a few darting +thoughts on what would be the end of the affair, and while I saw +certainly that I could spin it out for long, I saw no hope of any +ultimate escape. + +Well, while things stood thus, suddenly the HISPANIOLA struck, +staggered, ground for an instant in the sand, and then, swift as a +blow, canted over to the port side till the deck stood at an angle +of forty-five degrees and about a puncheon of water splashed into the +scupper holes and lay, in a pool, between the deck and bulwark. + +We were both of us capsized in a second, and both of us rolled, almost +together, into the scuppers, the dead red-cap, with his arms still +spread out, tumbling stiffly after us. So near were we, indeed, that my +head came against the coxswain’s foot with a crack that made my teeth +rattle. Blow and all, I was the first afoot again, for Hands had got +involved with the dead body. The sudden canting of the ship had made the +deck no place for running on; I had to find some new way of escape, +and that upon the instant, for my foe was almost touching me. Quick as +thought, I sprang into the mizzen shrouds, rattled up hand over hand, +and did not draw a breath till I was seated on the cross-trees. + +I had been saved by being prompt; the dirk had struck not half a foot +below me as I pursued my upward flight; and there stood Israel Hands +with his mouth open and his face upturned to mine, a perfect statue of +surprise and disappointment. + +Now that I had a moment to myself, I lost no time in changing the +priming of my pistol, and then, having one ready for service, and to +make assurance doubly sure, I proceeded to draw the load of the other +and recharge it afresh from the beginning. + +My new employment struck Hands all of a heap; he began to see the dice +going against him, and after an obvious hesitation, he also hauled +himself heavily into the shrouds, and with the dirk in his teeth, began +slowly and painfully to mount. It cost him no end of time and groans +to haul his wounded leg behind him, and I had quietly finished my +arrangements before he was much more than a third of the way up. Then, +with a pistol in either hand, I addressed him. + +“One more step, Mr. Hands,” said I, “and I’ll blow your brains out! Dead +men don’t bite, you know,” I added with a chuckle. + +He stopped instantly. I could see by the working of his face that he was +trying to think, and the process was so slow and laborious that, in my +new-found security, I laughed aloud. At last, with a swallow or two, he +spoke, his face still wearing the same expression of extreme perplexity. +In order to speak he had to take the dagger from his mouth, but in all +else he remained unmoved. + +“Jim,” says he, “I reckon we’re fouled, you and me, and we’ll have to +sign articles. I’d have had you but for that there lurch, but I don’t +have no luck, not I; and I reckon I’ll have to strike, which comes hard, +you see, for a master mariner to a ship’s younker like you, Jim.” + +I was drinking in his words and smiling away, as conceited as a cock +upon a wall, when, all in a breath, back went his right hand over his +shoulder. Something sang like an arrow through the air; I felt a blow +and then a sharp pang, and there I was pinned by the shoulder to the +mast. In the horrid pain and surprise of the moment--I scarce can say +it was by my own volition, and I am sure it was without a conscious +aim--both my pistols went off, and both escaped out of my hands. They +did not fall alone; with a choked cry, the coxswain loosed his grasp +upon the shrouds and plunged head first into the water. + + + + +XXVII +“Pieces of Eight” + + +Owing to the cant of the vessel, the masts hung far out over the water, +and from my perch on the cross-trees I had nothing below me but the +surface of the bay. Hands, who was not so far up, was in consequence +nearer to the ship and fell between me and the bulwarks. He rose once to +the surface in a lather of foam and blood and then sank again for good. +As the water settled, I could see him lying huddled together on the +clean, bright sand in the shadow of the vessel’s sides. A fish or two +whipped past his body. Sometimes, by the quivering of the water, he +appeared to move a little, as if he were trying to rise. But he was dead +enough, for all that, being both shot and drowned, and was food for fish +in the very place where he had designed my slaughter. + +I was no sooner certain of this than I began to feel sick, faint, and +terrified. The hot blood was running over my back and chest. The dirk, +where it had pinned my shoulder to the mast, seemed to burn like a hot +iron; yet it was not so much these real sufferings that distressed me, +for these, it seemed to me, I could bear without a murmur; it was the +horror I had upon my mind of falling from the cross-trees into that +still green water, beside the body of the coxswain. + +I clung with both hands till my nails ached, and I shut my eyes as if to +cover up the peril. Gradually my mind came back again, my pulses quieted +down to a more natural time, and I was once more in possession of +myself. + +It was my first thought to pluck forth the dirk, but either it stuck too +hard or my nerve failed me, and I desisted with a violent shudder. Oddly +enough, that very shudder did the business. The knife, in fact, had come +the nearest in the world to missing me altogether; it held me by a mere +pinch of skin, and this the shudder tore away. The blood ran down the +faster, to be sure, but I was my own master again and only tacked to the +mast by my coat and shirt. + +These last I broke through with a sudden jerk, and then regained the +deck by the starboard shrouds. For nothing in the world would I have +again ventured, shaken as I was, upon the overhanging port shrouds from +which Israel had so lately fallen. + +I went below and did what I could for my wound; it pained me a good deal +and still bled freely, but it was neither deep nor dangerous, nor did it +greatly gall me when I used my arm. Then I looked around me, and as the +ship was now, in a sense, my own, I began to think of clearing it from +its last passenger--the dead man, O’Brien. + +He had pitched, as I have said, against the bulwarks, where he lay +like some horrible, ungainly sort of puppet, life-size, indeed, but how +different from life’s colour or life’s comeliness! In that position +I could easily have my way with him, and as the habit of tragical +adventures had worn off almost all my terror for the dead, I took him +by the waist as if he had been a sack of bran and with one good heave, +tumbled him overboard. He went in with a sounding plunge; the red cap +came off and remained floating on the surface; and as soon as the splash +subsided, I could see him and Israel lying side by side, both wavering +with the tremulous movement of the water. O’Brien, though still quite a +young man, was very bald. There he lay, with that bald head across the +knees of the man who had killed him and the quick fishes steering to and +fro over both. + +I was now alone upon the ship; the tide had just turned. The sun was +within so few degrees of setting that already the shadow of the pines +upon the western shore began to reach right across the anchorage and +fall in patterns on the deck. The evening breeze had sprung up, and +though it was well warded off by the hill with the two peaks upon the +east, the cordage had begun to sing a little softly to itself and the +idle sails to rattle to and fro. + +I began to see a danger to the ship. The jibs I speedily doused and +brought tumbling to the deck, but the main-sail was a harder matter. Of +course, when the schooner canted over, the boom had swung out-board, and +the cap of it and a foot or two of sail hung even under water. I thought +this made it still more dangerous; yet the strain was so heavy that I +half feared to meddle. At last I got my knife and cut the halyards. The +peak dropped instantly, a great belly of loose canvas floated broad upon +the water, and since, pull as I liked, I could not budge the downhall, +that was the extent of what I could accomplish. For the rest, the +HISPANIOLA must trust to luck, like myself. + +By this time the whole anchorage had fallen into shadow--the last rays, +I remember, falling through a glade of the wood and shining bright as +jewels on the flowery mantle of the wreck. It began to be chill; the +tide was rapidly fleeting seaward, the schooner settling more and more +on her beam-ends. + +I scrambled forward and looked over. It seemed shallow enough, and +holding the cut hawser in both hands for a last security, I let myself +drop softly overboard. The water scarcely reached my waist; the sand was +firm and covered with ripple marks, and I waded ashore in great spirits, +leaving the HISPANIOLA on her side, with her main-sail trailing wide +upon the surface of the bay. About the same time, the sun went fairly +down and the breeze whistled low in the dusk among the tossing pines. + +At least, and at last, I was off the sea, nor had I returned thence +empty-handed. There lay the schooner, clear at last from buccaneers +and ready for our own men to board and get to sea again. I had nothing +nearer my fancy than to get home to the stockade and boast of my +achievements. Possibly I might be blamed a bit for my truantry, but the +recapture of the HISPANIOLA was a clenching answer, and I hoped that +even Captain Smollett would confess I had not lost my time. + +So thinking, and in famous spirits, I began to set my face homeward for +the block house and my companions. I remembered that the most easterly +of the rivers which drain into Captain Kidd’s anchorage ran from the +two-peaked hill upon my left, and I bent my course in that direction +that I might pass the stream while it was small. The wood was pretty +open, and keeping along the lower spurs, I had soon turned the corner +of that hill, and not long after waded to the mid-calf across the +watercourse. + +This brought me near to where I had encountered Ben Gunn, the maroon; +and I walked more circumspectly, keeping an eye on every side. The dusk +had come nigh hand completely, and as I opened out the cleft between the +two peaks, I became aware of a wavering glow against the sky, where, as +I judged, the man of the island was cooking his supper before a roaring +fire. And yet I wondered, in my heart, that he should show himself so +careless. For if I could see this radiance, might it not reach the eyes +of Silver himself where he camped upon the shore among the marshes? + +Gradually the night fell blacker; it was all I could do to guide myself +even roughly towards my destination; the double hill behind me and the +Spy-glass on my right hand loomed faint and fainter; the stars were few +and pale; and in the low ground where I wandered I kept tripping among +bushes and rolling into sandy pits. + +Suddenly a kind of brightness fell about me. I looked up; a pale glimmer +of moonbeams had alighted on the summit of the Spy-glass, and soon after +I saw something broad and silvery moving low down behind the trees, and +knew the moon had risen. + +With this to help me, I passed rapidly over what remained to me of my +journey, and sometimes walking, sometimes running, impatiently drew near +to the stockade. Yet, as I began to thread the grove that lies before +it, I was not so thoughtless but that I slacked my pace and went a +trifle warily. It would have been a poor end of my adventures to get +shot down by my own party in mistake. + +The moon was climbing higher and higher, its light began to fall here +and there in masses through the more open districts of the wood, and +right in front of me a glow of a different colour appeared among +the trees. It was red and hot, and now and again it was a little +darkened--as it were, the embers of a bonfire smouldering. + +For the life of me I could not think what it might be. + +At last I came right down upon the borders of the clearing. The western +end was already steeped in moonshine; the rest, and the block house +itself, still lay in a black shadow chequered with long silvery streaks +of light. On the other side of the house an immense fire had burned +itself into clear embers and shed a steady, red reverberation, +contrasted strongly with the mellow paleness of the moon. There was not +a soul stirring nor a sound beside the noises of the breeze. + +I stopped, with much wonder in my heart, and perhaps a little terror +also. It had not been our way to build great fires; we were, indeed, +by the captain’s orders, somewhat niggardly of firewood, and I began to +fear that something had gone wrong while I was absent. + +I stole round by the eastern end, keeping close in shadow, and at a +convenient place, where the darkness was thickest, crossed the palisade. + +To make assurance surer, I got upon my hands and knees and crawled, +without a sound, towards the corner of the house. As I drew nearer, my +heart was suddenly and greatly lightened. It is not a pleasant noise in +itself, and I have often complained of it at other times, but just +then it was like music to hear my friends snoring together so loud and +peaceful in their sleep. The sea-cry of the watch, that beautiful “All’s +well,” never fell more reassuringly on my ear. + +In the meantime, there was no doubt of one thing; they kept an infamous +bad watch. If it had been Silver and his lads that were now creeping +in on them, not a soul would have seen daybreak. That was what it +was, thought I, to have the captain wounded; and again I blamed myself +sharply for leaving them in that danger with so few to mount guard. + +By this time I had got to the door and stood up. All was dark within, +so that I could distinguish nothing by the eye. As for sounds, there +was the steady drone of the snorers and a small occasional noise, a +flickering or pecking that I could in no way account for. + +With my arms before me I walked steadily in. I should lie down in my own +place (I thought with a silent chuckle) and enjoy their faces when they +found me in the morning. + +My foot struck something yielding--it was a sleeper’s leg; and he turned +and groaned, but without awaking. + +And then, all of a sudden, a shrill voice broke forth out of the +darkness: + +“Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight! +Pieces of eight!” and so forth, without pause or change, like the +clacking of a tiny mill. + +Silver’s green parrot, Captain Flint! It was she whom I had heard +pecking at a piece of bark; it was she, keeping better watch than any +human being, who thus announced my arrival with her wearisome refrain. + +I had no time left me to recover. At the sharp, clipping tone of the +parrot, the sleepers awoke and sprang up; and with a mighty oath, the +voice of Silver cried, “Who goes?” + +I turned to run, struck violently against one person, recoiled, and ran +full into the arms of a second, who for his part closed upon and held me +tight. + +“Bring a torch, Dick,” said Silver when my capture was thus assured. + +And one of the men left the log-house and presently returned with a +lighted brand. + + + + +<|endoftext|>PARTSIX---Captain Silver + + + + +XXVIII +In the Enemy’s Camp + + +The red glare of the torch, lighting up the interior of the block house, +showed me the worst of my apprehensions realized. The pirates were in +possession of the house and stores: there was the cask of cognac, +there were the pork and bread, as before, and what tenfold increased +my horror, not a sign of any prisoner. I could only judge that all had +perished, and my heart smote me sorely that I had not been there to +perish with them. + +There were six of the buccaneers, all told; not another man was left +alive. Five of them were on their feet, flushed and swollen, suddenly +called out of the first sleep of drunkenness. The sixth had only risen +upon his elbow; he was deadly pale, and the blood-stained bandage round +his head told that he had recently been wounded, and still more recently +dressed. I remembered the man who had been shot and had run back among +the woods in the great attack, and doubted not that this was he. + +The parrot sat, preening her plumage, on Long John’s shoulder. He +himself, I thought, looked somewhat paler and more stern than I was used +to. He still wore the fine broadcloth suit in which he had fulfilled his +mission, but it was bitterly the worse for wear, daubed with clay and +torn with the sharp briers of the wood. + +“So,” said he, “here’s Jim Hawkins, shiver my timbers! Dropped in, like, +eh? Well, come, I take that friendly.” + +And thereupon he sat down across the brandy cask and began to fill a +pipe. + +“Give me a loan of the link, Dick,” said he; and then, when he had a +good light, “That’ll do, lad,” he added; “stick the glim in the wood +heap; and you, gentlemen, bring yourselves to! You needn’t stand up +for Mr. Hawkins; HE’LL excuse you, you may lay to that. And so, +Jim”--stopping the tobacco--“here you were, and quite a pleasant +surprise for poor old John. I see you were smart when first I set my +eyes on you, but this here gets away from me clean, it do.” + +To all this, as may be well supposed, I made no answer. They had set me +with my back against the wall, and I stood there, looking Silver in the +face, pluckily enough, I hope, to all outward appearance, but with black +despair in my heart. + +Silver took a whiff or two of his pipe with great composure and then ran +on again. + +“Now, you see, Jim, so be as you ARE here,” says he, “I’ll give you a +piece of my mind. I’ve always liked you, I have, for a lad of spirit, +and the picter of my own self when I was young and handsome. I always +wanted you to jine and take your share, and die a gentleman, and now, my +cock, you’ve got to. Cap’n Smollett’s a fine seaman, as I’ll own up to +any day, but stiff on discipline. ‘Dooty is dooty,’ says he, and right +he is. Just you keep clear of the cap’n. The doctor himself is gone dead +again’ you--‘ungrateful scamp’ was what he said; and the short and the +long of the whole story is about here: you can’t go back to your own +lot, for they won’t have you; and without you start a third ship’s +company all by yourself, which might be lonely, you’ll have to jine with +Cap’n Silver.” + +So far so good. My friends, then, were still alive, and though I partly +believed the truth of Silver’s statement, that the cabin party were +incensed at me for my desertion, I was more relieved than distressed by +what I heard. + +“I don’t say nothing as to your being in our hands,” continued Silver, +“though there you are, and you may lay to it. I’m all for argyment; I +never seen good come out o’ threatening. If you like the service, well, +you’ll jine; and if you don’t, Jim, why, you’re free to answer no--free +and welcome, shipmate; and if fairer can be said by mortal seaman, +shiver my sides!” + +“Am I to answer, then?” I asked with a very tremulous voice. Through all +this sneering talk, I was made to feel the threat of death that overhung +me, and my cheeks burned and my heart beat painfully in my breast. + +“Lad,” said Silver, “no one’s a-pressing of you. Take your bearings. +None of us won’t hurry you, mate; time goes so pleasant in your company, +you see.” + +“Well,” says I, growing a bit bolder, “if I’m to choose, I declare I +have a right to know what’s what, and why you’re here, and where my +friends are.” + +“Wot’s wot?” repeated one of the buccaneers in a deep growl. “Ah, he’d +be a lucky one as knowed that!” + +“You’ll perhaps batten down your hatches till you’re spoke to, my +friend,” cried Silver truculently to this speaker. And then, in +his first gracious tones, he replied to me, “Yesterday morning, Mr. +Hawkins,” said he, “in the dog-watch, down came Doctor Livesey with a +flag of truce. Says he, ‘Cap’n Silver, you’re sold out. Ship’s gone.’ +Well, maybe we’d been taking a glass, and a song to help it round. I +won’t say no. Leastways, none of us had looked out. We looked out, and +by thunder, the old ship was gone! I never seen a pack o’ fools look +fishier; and you may lay to that, if I tells you that looked the +fishiest. ‘Well,’ says the doctor, ‘let’s bargain.’ We bargained, him +and I, and here we are: stores, brandy, block house, the firewood you +was thoughtful enough to cut, and in a manner of speaking, the whole +blessed boat, from cross-trees to kelson. As for them, they’ve tramped; +I don’t know where’s they are.” + +He drew again quietly at his pipe. + +“And lest you should take it into that head of yours,” he went on, “that +you was included in the treaty, here’s the last word that was said: ‘How +many are you,’ says I, ‘to leave?’ ‘Four,’ says he; ‘four, and one of us +wounded. As for that boy, I don’t know where he is, confound him,’ says +he, ‘nor I don’t much care. We’re about sick of him.’ These was his +words.” + +“Is that all?” I asked. + +“Well, it’s all that you’re to hear, my son,” returned Silver. + +“And now I am to choose?” + +“And now you are to choose, and you may lay to that,” said Silver. + +“Well,” said I, ���I am not such a fool but I know pretty well what I have +to look for. Let the worst come to the worst, it’s little I care. I’ve +seen too many die since I fell in with you. But there’s a thing or two +I have to tell you,” I said, and by this time I was quite excited; “and +the first is this: here you are, in a bad way--ship lost, treasure lost, +men lost, your whole business gone to wreck; and if you want to know who +did it--it was I! I was in the apple barrel the night we sighted land, +and I heard you, John, and you, Dick Johnson, and Hands, who is now at +the bottom of the sea, and told every word you said before the hour was +out. And as for the schooner, it was I who cut her cable, and it was I +that killed the men you had aboard of her, and it was I who brought her +where you’ll never see her more, not one of you. The laugh’s on my side; +I’ve had the top of this business from the first; I no more fear you +than I fear a fly. Kill me, if you please, or spare me. But one thing +I’ll say, and no more; if you spare me, bygones are bygones, and when +you fellows are in court for piracy, I’ll save you all I can. It is for +you to choose. Kill another and do yourselves no good, or spare me and +keep a witness to save you from the gallows.” + +I stopped, for, I tell you, I was out of breath, and to my wonder, not +a man of them moved, but all sat staring at me like as many sheep. And +while they were still staring, I broke out again, “And now, Mr. Silver,” + I said, “I believe you’re the best man here, and if things go to the +worst, I’ll take it kind of you to let the doctor know the way I took +it.” + +“I’ll bear it in mind,” said Silver with an accent so curious that I +could not, for the life of me, decide whether he were laughing at my +request or had been favourably affected by my courage. + +“I’ll put one to that,” cried the old mahogany-faced seaman--Morgan +by name--whom I had seen in Long John’s public-house upon the quays of +Bristol. “It was him that knowed Black Dog.” + +“Well, and see here,” added the sea-cook. “I’ll put another again to +that, by thunder! For it was this same boy that faked the chart from +Billy Bones. First and last, we’ve split upon Jim Hawkins!” + +“Then here goes!” said Morgan with an oath. + +And he sprang up, drawing his knife as if he had been twenty. + +“Avast, there!” cried Silver. “Who are you, Tom Morgan? Maybe you +thought you was cap’n here, perhaps. By the powers, but I’ll teach you +better! Cross me, and you’ll go where many a good man’s gone before you, +first and last, these thirty year back--some to the yard-arm, shiver +my timbers, and some by the board, and all to feed the fishes. There’s +never a man looked me between the eyes and seen a good day a’terwards, +Tom Morgan, you may lay to that.” + +Morgan paused, but a hoarse murmur rose from the others. + +“Tom’s right,” said one. + +“I stood hazing long enough from one,” added another. “I’ll be hanged if +I’ll be hazed by you, John Silver.” + +“Did any of you gentlemen want to have it out with ME?” roared Silver, +bending far forward from his position on the keg, with his pipe still +glowing in his right hand. “Put a name on what you’re at; you ain’t +dumb, I reckon. Him that wants shall get it. Have I lived this many +years, and a son of a rum puncheon cock his hat athwart my hawse at the +latter end of it? You know the way; you’re all gentlemen o’ fortune, by +your account. Well, I’m ready. Take a cutlass, him that dares, and I’ll +see the colour of his inside, crutch and all, before that pipe’s empty.” + +Not a man stirred; not a man answered. + +“That’s your sort, is it?” he added, returning his pipe to his mouth. +“Well, you’re a gay lot to look at, anyway. Not much worth to fight, you +ain’t. P’r’aps you can understand King George’s English. I’m cap’n here +by ’lection. I’m cap’n here because I’m the best man by a long sea-mile. +You won’t fight, as gentlemen o’ fortune should; then, by thunder, +you’ll obey, and you may lay to it! I like that boy, now; I never seen +a better boy than that. He’s more a man than any pair of rats of you in +this here house, and what I say is this: let me see him that’ll lay a +hand on him--that’s what I say, and you may lay to it.” + +There was a long pause after this. I stood straight up against the wall, +my heart still going like a sledge-hammer, but with a ray of hope +now shining in my bosom. Silver leant back against the wall, his arms +crossed, his pipe in the corner of his mouth, as calm as though he had +been in church; yet his eye kept wandering furtively, and he kept the +tail of it on his unruly followers. They, on their part, drew gradually +together towards the far end of the block house, and the low hiss of +their whispering sounded in my ear continuously, like a stream. One +after another, they would look up, and the red light of the torch would +fall for a second on their nervous faces; but it was not towards me, it +was towards Silver that they turned their eyes. + +“You seem to have a lot to say,” remarked Silver, spitting far into the +air. “Pipe up and let me hear it, or lay to.” + +“Ax your pardon, sir,” returned one of the men; “you’re pretty free with +some of the rules; maybe you’ll kindly keep an eye upon the rest. This +crew’s dissatisfied; this crew don’t vally bullying a marlin-spike; this +crew has its rights like other crews, I’ll make so free as that; and by +your own rules, I take it we can talk together. I ax your pardon, sir, +acknowledging you for to be capting at this present; but I claim my +right, and steps outside for a council.” + +And with an elaborate sea-salute, this fellow, a long, ill-looking, +yellow-eyed man of five and thirty, stepped coolly towards the door and +disappeared out of the house. One after another the rest followed his +example, each making a salute as he passed, each adding some apology. +“According to rules,” said one. “Forecastle council,” said Morgan. And +so with one remark or another all marched out and left Silver and me +alone with the torch. + +The sea-cook instantly removed his pipe. + +“Now, look you here, Jim Hawkins,” he said in a steady whisper that was +no more than audible, “you’re within half a plank of death, and what’s +a long sight worse, of torture. They’re going to throw me off. But, you +mark, I stand by you through thick and thin. I didn’t mean to; no, not +till you spoke up. I was about desperate to lose that much blunt, and +be hanged into the bargain. But I see you was the right sort. I says to +myself, you stand by Hawkins, John, and Hawkins’ll stand by you. You’re +his last card, and by the living thunder, John, he’s yours! Back to +back, says I. You save your witness, and he’ll save your neck!” + +I began dimly to understand. + +“You mean all’s lost?” I asked. + +“Aye, by gum, I do!” he answered. “Ship gone, neck gone--that’s the +size of it. Once I looked into that bay, Jim Hawkins, and seen no +schooner--well, I’m tough, but I gave out. As for that lot and their +council, mark me, they’re outright fools and cowards. I’ll save your +life--if so be as I can--from them. But, see here, Jim--tit for tat--you +save Long John from swinging.” + +I was bewildered; it seemed a thing so hopeless he was asking--he, the +old buccaneer, the ringleader throughout. + +“What I can do, that I’ll do,” I said. + +“It’s a bargain!” cried Long John. “You speak up plucky, and by thunder, +I’ve a chance!” + +He hobbled to the torch, where it stood propped among the firewood, and +took a fresh light to his pipe. + +“Understand me, Jim,” he said, returning. “I’ve a head on my shoulders, +I have. I’m on squire’s side now. I know you’ve got that ship safe +somewheres. How you done it, I don’t know, but safe it is. I guess Hands +and O’Brien turned soft. I never much believed in neither of THEM. Now +you mark me. I ask no questions, nor I won’t let others. I know when +a game’s up, I do; and I know a lad that’s staunch. Ah, you that’s +young--you and me might have done a power of good together!” + +He drew some cognac from the cask into a tin cannikin. + +“Will you taste, messmate?” he asked; and when I had refused: “Well, +I’ll take a dram myself, Jim,” said he. “I need a caulker, for there’s +trouble on hand. And talking o’ trouble, why did that doctor give me the +chart, Jim?” + +My face expressed a wonder so unaffected that he saw the needlessness of +further questions. + +“Ah, well, he did, though,” said he. “And there’s something under that, +no doubt--something, surely, under that, Jim--bad or good.” + +And he took another swallow of the brandy, shaking his great fair head +like a man who looks forward to the worst. + + + + +XXIX +The Black Spot Again + + +The council of buccaneers had lasted some time, when one of them +re-entered the house, and with a repetition of the same salute, which +had in my eyes an ironical air, begged for a moment’s loan of the torch. +Silver briefly agreed, and this emissary retired again, leaving us +together in the dark. + +“There’s a breeze coming, Jim,” said Silver, who had by this time +adopted quite a friendly and familiar tone. + +I turned to the loophole nearest me and looked out. The embers of the +great fire had so far burned themselves out and now glowed so low and +duskily that I understood why these conspirators desired a torch. About +half-way down the slope to the stockade, they were collected in a group; +one held the light, another was on his knees in their midst, and I saw +the blade of an open knife shine in his hand with varying colours in +the moon and torchlight. The rest were all somewhat stooping, as though +watching the manoeuvres of this last. I could just make out that he +had a book as well as a knife in his hand, and was still wondering how +anything so incongruous had come in their possession when the kneeling +figure rose once more to his feet and the whole party began to move +together towards the house. + +“Here they come,” said I; and I returned to my former position, for it +seemed beneath my dignity that they should find me watching them. + +“Well, let ’em come, lad--let ’em come,” said Silver cheerily. “I’ve +still a shot in my locker.” + +The door opened, and the five men, standing huddled together just +inside, pushed one of their number forward. In any other circumstances +it would have been comical to see his slow advance, hesitating as he set +down each foot, but holding his closed right hand in front of him. + +“Step up, lad,” cried Silver. “I won’t eat you. Hand it over, lubber. I +know the rules, I do; I won’t hurt a depytation.” + +Thus encouraged, the buccaneer stepped forth more briskly, and having +passed something to Silver, from hand to hand, slipped yet more smartly +back again to his companions. + +The sea-cook looked at what had been given him. + +“The black spot! I thought so,” he observed. “Where might you have got +the paper? Why, hillo! Look here, now; this ain’t lucky! You’ve gone and +cut this out of a Bible. What fool’s cut a Bible?” + +“Ah, there!” said Morgan. “There! Wot did I say? No good’ll come o’ +that, I said.” + +“Well, you’ve about fixed it now, among you,” continued Silver. “You’ll +all swing now, I reckon. What soft-headed lubber had a Bible?” + +“It was Dick,” said one. + +“Dick, was it? Then Dick can get to prayers,” said Silver. “He’s seen +his slice of luck, has Dick, and you may lay to that.” + +But here the long man with the yellow eyes struck in. + +“Belay that talk, John Silver,” he said. “This crew has tipped you the +black spot in full council, as in dooty bound; just you turn it over, as +in dooty bound, and see what’s wrote there. Then you can talk.” + +“Thanky, George,” replied the sea-cook. “You always was brisk for +business, and has the rules by heart, George, as I’m pleased to see. +Well, what is it, anyway? Ah! ‘Deposed’--that’s it, is it? Very pretty +wrote, to be sure; like print, I swear. Your hand o’ write, George? Why, +you was gettin’ quite a leadin’ man in this here crew. You’ll be cap’n +next, I shouldn’t wonder. Just oblige me with that torch again, will +you? This pipe don’t draw.” + +“Come, now,” said George, “you don’t fool this crew no more. You’re a +funny man, by your account; but you’re over now, and you’ll maybe step +down off that barrel and help vote.” + +“I thought you said you knowed the rules,” returned Silver +contemptuously. “Leastways, if you don’t, I do; and I wait here--and I’m +still your cap’n, mind--till you outs with your grievances and I reply; +in the meantime, your black spot ain’t worth a biscuit. After that, +we’ll see.” + +“Oh,” replied George, “you don’t be under no kind of apprehension; WE’RE +all square, we are. First, you’ve made a hash of this cruise--you’ll be +a bold man to say no to that. Second, you let the enemy out o’ this here +trap for nothing. Why did they want out? I dunno, but it’s pretty plain +they wanted it. Third, you wouldn’t let us go at them upon the march. +Oh, we see through you, John Silver; you want to play booty, that’s +what’s wrong with you. And then, fourth, there’s this here boy.” + +“Is that all?” asked Silver quietly. + +“Enough, too,” retorted George. “We’ll all swing and sun-dry for your +bungling.” + +“Well now, look here, I’ll answer these four p’ints; one after another +I’ll answer ’em. I made a hash o’ this cruise, did I? Well now, you all +know what I wanted, and you all know if that had been done that we’d +’a been aboard the HISPANIOLA this night as ever was, every man of us +alive, and fit, and full of good plum-duff, and the treasure in the hold +of her, by thunder! Well, who crossed me? Who forced my hand, as was the +lawful cap’n? Who tipped me the black spot the day we landed and began +this dance? Ah, it’s a fine dance--I’m with you there--and looks mighty +like a hornpipe in a rope’s end at Execution Dock by London town, it +does. But who done it? Why, it was Anderson, and Hands, and you, George +Merry! And you’re the last above board of that same meddling crew; +and you have the Davy Jones’s insolence to up and stand for cap’n over +me--you, that sank the lot of us! By the powers! But this tops the +stiffest yarn to nothing.” + +Silver paused, and I could see by the faces of George and his late +comrades that these words had not been said in vain. + +“That’s for number one,” cried the accused, wiping the sweat from his +brow, for he had been talking with a vehemence that shook the house. +“Why, I give you my word, I’m sick to speak to you. You’ve neither sense +nor memory, and I leave it to fancy where your mothers was that let you +come to sea. Sea! Gentlemen o’ fortune! I reckon tailors is your trade.” + +“Go on, John,” said Morgan. “Speak up to the others.” + +“Ah, the others!” returned John. “They’re a nice lot, ain’t they? You +say this cruise is bungled. Ah! By gum, if you could understand how bad +it’s bungled, you would see! We’re that near the gibbet that my neck’s +stiff with thinking on it. You’ve seen ’em, maybe, hanged in chains, +birds about ’em, seamen p’inting ’em out as they go down with the tide. +‘Who’s that?’ says one. ‘That! Why, that’s John Silver. I knowed him +well,’ says another. And you can hear the chains a-jangle as you go +about and reach for the other buoy. Now, that’s about where we are, +every mother’s son of us, thanks to him, and Hands, and Anderson, and +other ruination fools of you. And if you want to know about number four, +and that boy, why, shiver my timbers, isn’t he a hostage? Are we a-going +to waste a hostage? No, not us; he might be our last chance, and I +shouldn’t wonder. Kill that boy? Not me, mates! And number three? Ah, +well, there’s a deal to say to number three. Maybe you don’t count it +nothing to have a real college doctor to see you every day--you, John, +with your head broke--or you, George Merry, that had the ague shakes +upon you not six hours agone, and has your eyes the colour of lemon peel +to this same moment on the clock? And maybe, perhaps, you didn’t know +there was a consort coming either? But there is, and not so long till +then; and we’ll see who’ll be glad to have a hostage when it comes to +that. And as for number two, and why I made a bargain--well, you came +crawling on your knees to me to make it--on your knees you came, you was +that downhearted--and you’d have starved too if I hadn’t--but that’s a +trifle! You look there--that’s why!” + +And he cast down upon the floor a paper that I instantly +recognized--none other than the chart on yellow paper, with the three +red crosses, that I had found in the oilcloth at the bottom of the +captain’s chest. Why the doctor had given it to him was more than I +could fancy. + +But if it were inexplicable to me, the appearance of the chart was +incredible to the surviving mutineers. They leaped upon it like cats +upon a mouse. It went from hand to hand, one tearing it from another; +and by the oaths and the cries and the childish laughter with which they +accompanied their examination, you would have thought, not only they +were fingering the very gold, but were at sea with it, besides, in +safety. + +“Yes,” said one, “that’s Flint, sure enough. J. F., and a score below, +with a clove hitch to it; so he done ever.” + +“Mighty pretty,” said George. “But how are we to get away with it, and +us no ship.” + +Silver suddenly sprang up, and supporting himself with a hand against +the wall: “Now I give you warning, George,” he cried. “One more word +of your sauce, and I’ll call you down and fight you. How? Why, how do I +know? You had ought to tell me that--you and the rest, that lost me my +schooner, with your interference, burn you! But not you, you can’t; you +hain’t got the invention of a cockroach. But civil you can speak, and +shall, George Merry, you may lay to that.” + +“That’s fair enow,” said the old man Morgan. + +“Fair! I reckon so,” said the sea-cook. “You lost the ship; I found the +treasure. Who’s the better man at that? And now I resign, by thunder! +Elect whom you please to be your cap’n now; I’m done with it.” + +“Silver!” they cried. “Barbecue forever! Barbecue for cap’n!” + +“So that’s the toon, is it?” cried the cook. “George, I reckon you’ll +have to wait another turn, friend; and lucky for you as I’m not a +revengeful man. But that was never my way. And now, shipmates, this +black spot? ’Tain’t much good now, is it? Dick’s crossed his luck and +spoiled his Bible, and that’s about all.” + +“It’ll do to kiss the book on still, won’t it?” growled Dick, who was +evidently uneasy at the curse he had brought upon himself. + +“A Bible with a bit cut out!” returned Silver derisively. “Not it. It +don’t bind no more’n a ballad-book.” + +“Don’t it, though?” cried Dick with a sort of joy. “Well, I reckon +that’s worth having too.” + +“Here, Jim--here’s a cur’osity for you,” said Silver, and he tossed me +the paper. + +It was around about the size of a crown piece. One side was blank, +for it had been the last leaf; the other contained a verse or two of +Revelation--these words among the rest, which struck sharply home upon +my mind: “Without are dogs and murderers.” The printed side had been +blackened with wood ash, which already began to come off and soil my +fingers; on the blank side had been written with the same material the +one word “Depposed.” I have that curiosity beside me at this moment, but +not a trace of writing now remains beyond a single scratch, such as a +man might make with his thumb-nail. + +That was the end of the night’s business. Soon after, with a drink all +round, we lay down to sleep, and the outside of Silver’s vengeance was +to put George Merry up for sentinel and threaten him with death if he +should prove unfaithful. + +It was long ere I could close an eye, and heaven knows I had matter +enough for thought in the man whom I had slain that afternoon, in my own +most perilous position, and above all, in the remarkable game that I saw +Silver now engaged upon--keeping the mutineers together with one hand +and grasping with the other after every means, possible and impossible, +to make his peace and save his miserable life. He himself slept +peacefully and snored aloud, yet my heart was sore for him, wicked as he +was, to think on the dark perils that environed and the shameful gibbet +that awaited him. + + + + +XXX +On Parole + + +I was wakened--indeed, we were all wakened, for I could see even the +sentinel shake himself together from where he had fallen against the +door-post--by a clear, hearty voice hailing us from the margin of the +wood: + +“Block house, ahoy!” it cried. “Here’s the doctor.” + +And the doctor it was. Although I was glad to hear the sound, yet my +gladness was not without admixture. I remembered with confusion my +insubordinate and stealthy conduct, and when I saw where it had brought +me--among what companions and surrounded by what dangers--I felt ashamed +to look him in the face. + +He must have risen in the dark, for the day had hardly come; and when I +ran to a loophole and looked out, I saw him standing, like Silver once +before, up to the mid-leg in creeping vapour. + +“You, doctor! Top o’ the morning to you, sir!” cried Silver, broad awake +and beaming with good nature in a moment. “Bright and early, to be sure; +and it’s the early bird, as the saying goes, that gets the rations. +George, shake up your timbers, son, and help Dr. Livesey over the ship’s +side. All a-doin’ well, your patients was--all well and merry.” + +So he pattered on, standing on the hilltop with his crutch under his +elbow and one hand upon the side of the log-house--quite the old John in +voice, manner, and expression. + +“We’ve quite a surprise for you too, sir,” he continued. “We’ve a little +stranger here--he! he! A noo boarder and lodger, sir, and looking fit +and taut as a fiddle; slep’ like a supercargo, he did, right alongside +of John--stem to stem we was, all night.” + +Dr. Livesey was by this time across the stockade and pretty near the +cook, and I could hear the alteration in his voice as he said, “Not +Jim?” + +“The very same Jim as ever was,” says Silver. + +The doctor stopped outright, although he did not speak, and it was some +seconds before he seemed able to move on. + +“Well, well,” he said at last, “duty first and pleasure afterwards, as +you might have said yourself, Silver. Let us overhaul these patients of +yours.” + +A moment afterwards he had entered the block house and with one grim +nod to me proceeded with his work among the sick. He seemed under no +apprehension, though he must have known that his life, among these +treacherous demons, depended on a hair; and he rattled on to his +patients as if he were paying an ordinary professional visit in a quiet +English family. His manner, I suppose, reacted on the men, for they +behaved to him as if nothing had occurred, as if he were still ship’s +doctor and they still faithful hands before the mast. + +“You’re doing well, my friend,” he said to the fellow with the bandaged +head, “and if ever any person had a close shave, it was you; your head +must be as hard as iron. Well, George, how goes it? You’re a pretty +colour, certainly; why, your liver, man, is upside down. Did you take +that medicine? Did he take that medicine, men?” + +“Aye, aye, sir, he took it, sure enough,” returned Morgan. + +“Because, you see, since I am mutineers’ doctor, or prison doctor as I +prefer to call it,” says Doctor Livesey in his pleasantest way, “I make +it a point of honour not to lose a man for King George (God bless him!) +and the gallows.” + +The rogues looked at each other but swallowed the home-thrust in +silence. + +“Dick don’t feel well, sir,” said one. + +“Don’t he?” replied the doctor. “Well, step up here, Dick, and let me +see your tongue. No, I should be surprised if he did! The man’s tongue +is fit to frighten the French. Another fever.” + +“Ah, there,” said Morgan, “that comed of sp’iling Bibles.” + +“That comes--as you call it--of being arrant asses,” retorted the +doctor, “and not having sense enough to know honest air from poison, +and the dry land from a vile, pestiferous slough. I think it most +probable--though of course it’s only an opinion--that you’ll all have +the deuce to pay before you get that malaria out of your systems. Camp +in a bog, would you? Silver, I’m surprised at you. You’re less of a fool +than many, take you all round; but you don’t appear to me to have the +rudiments of a notion of the rules of health. + +“Well,” he added after he had dosed them round and they had taken +his prescriptions, with really laughable humility, more like charity +schoolchildren than blood-guilty mutineers and pirates--“well, that’s +done for today. And now I should wish to have a talk with that boy, +please.” + +And he nodded his head in my direction carelessly. + +George Merry was at the door, spitting and spluttering over some +bad-tasted medicine; but at the first word of the doctor’s proposal he +swung round with a deep flush and cried “No!” and swore. + +Silver struck the barrel with his open hand. + +“Si-lence!” he roared and looked about him positively like a lion. +“Doctor,” he went on in his usual tones, “I was a-thinking of that, +knowing as how you had a fancy for the boy. We’re all humbly grateful +for your kindness, and as you see, puts faith in you and takes the drugs +down like that much grog. And I take it I’ve found a way as’ll suit all. +Hawkins, will you give me your word of honour as a young gentleman--for +a young gentleman you are, although poor born--your word of honour not +to slip your cable?” + +I readily gave the pledge required. + +“Then, doctor,” said Silver, “you just step outside o’ that stockade, +and once you’re there I’ll bring the boy down on the inside, and I +reckon you can yarn through the spars. Good day to you, sir, and all our +dooties to the squire and Cap’n Smollett.” + +The explosion of disapproval, which nothing but Silver’s black looks had +restrained, broke out immediately the doctor had left the house. Silver +was roundly accused of playing double--of trying to make a separate +peace for himself, of sacrificing the interests of his accomplices and +victims, and, in one word, of the identical, exact thing that he was +doing. It seemed to me so obvious, in this case, that I could not +imagine how he was to turn their anger. But he was twice the man +the rest were, and his last night’s victory had given him a huge +preponderance on their minds. He called them all the fools and dolts +you can imagine, said it was necessary I should talk to the doctor, +fluttered the chart in their faces, asked them if they could afford to +break the treaty the very day they were bound a-treasure-hunting. + +“No, by thunder!” he cried. “It’s us must break the treaty when the time +comes; and till then I’ll gammon that doctor, if I have to ile his boots +with brandy.” + +And then he bade them get the fire lit, and stalked out upon his crutch, +with his hand on my shoulder, leaving them in a disarray, and silenced +by his volubility rather than convinced. + +“Slow, lad, slow,” he said. “They might round upon us in a twinkle of an +eye if we was seen to hurry.” + +Very deliberately, then, did we advance across the sand to where the +doctor awaited us on the other side of the stockade, and as soon as we +were within easy speaking distance Silver stopped. + +“You’ll make a note of this here also, doctor,” says he, “and the boy’ll +tell you how I saved his life, and were deposed for it too, and you +may lay to that. Doctor, when a man’s steering as near the wind as +me--playing chuck-farthing with the last breath in his body, like--you +wouldn’t think it too much, mayhap, to give him one good word? You’ll +please bear in mind it’s not my life only now--it’s that boy’s into the +bargain; and you’ll speak me fair, doctor, and give me a bit o’ hope to +go on, for the sake of mercy.” + +Silver was a changed man once he was out there and had his back to his +friends and the block house; his cheeks seemed to have fallen in, his +voice trembled; never was a soul more dead in earnest. + +“Why, John, you’re not afraid?” asked Dr. Livesey. + +“Doctor, I’m no coward; no, not I--not SO much!” and he snapped his +fingers. “If I was I wouldn’t say it. But I’ll own up fairly, I’ve the +shakes upon me for the gallows. You’re a good man and a true; I never +seen a better man! And you’ll not forget what I done good, not any more +than you’ll forget the bad, I know. And I step aside--see here--and +leave you and Jim alone. And you’ll put that down for me too, for it’s a +long stretch, is that!” + +So saying, he stepped back a little way, till he was out of earshot, and +there sat down upon a tree-stump and began to whistle, spinning round +now and again upon his seat so as to command a sight, sometimes of me +and the doctor and sometimes of his unruly ruffians as they went to and +fro in the sand between the fire--which they were busy rekindling--and +the house, from which they brought forth pork and bread to make the +breakfast. + +“So, Jim,” said the doctor sadly, “here you are. As you have brewed, so +shall you drink, my boy. Heaven knows, I cannot find it in my heart to +blame you, but this much I will say, be it kind or unkind: when Captain +Smollett was well, you dared not have gone off; and when he was ill and +couldn’t help it, by George, it was downright cowardly!” + +I will own that I here began to weep. “Doctor,” I said, “you might spare +me. I have blamed myself enough; my life’s forfeit anyway, and I should +have been dead by now if Silver hadn’t stood for me; and doctor, +believe this, I can die--and I dare say I deserve it--but what I fear is +torture. If they come to torture me--” + +“Jim,” the doctor interrupted, and his voice was quite changed, “Jim, I +can’t have this. Whip over, and we’ll run for it.” + +“Doctor,” said I, “I passed my word.” + +“I know, I know,” he cried. “We can’t help that, Jim, now. I’ll take it +on my shoulders, holus bolus, blame and shame, my boy; but stay here, +I cannot let you. Jump! One jump, and you’re out, and we’ll run for it +like antelopes.” + +“No,” I replied; “you know right well you wouldn’t do the thing +yourself--neither you nor squire nor captain; and no more will I. Silver +trusted me; I passed my word, and back I go. But, doctor, you did not +let me finish. If they come to torture me, I might let slip a word of +where the ship is, for I got the ship, part by luck and part by risking, +and she lies in North Inlet, on the southern beach, and just below high +water. At half tide she must be high and dry.” + +“The ship!” exclaimed the doctor. + +Rapidly I described to him my adventures, and he heard me out in +silence. + +“There is a kind of fate in this,” he observed when I had done. “Every +step, it’s you that saves our lives; and do you suppose by any chance +that we are going to let you lose yours? That would be a poor return, my +boy. You found out the plot; you found Ben Gunn--the best deed that +ever you did, or will do, though you live to ninety. Oh, by Jupiter, and +talking of Ben Gunn! Why, this is the mischief in person. Silver!” he +cried. “Silver! I’ll give you a piece of advice,” he continued as +the cook drew near again; “don’t you be in any great hurry after that +treasure.” + +“Why, sir, I do my possible, which that ain’t,” said Silver. “I can +only, asking your pardon, save my life and the boy’s by seeking for that +treasure; and you may lay to that.” + +“Well, Silver,” replied the doctor, “if that is so, I’ll go one step +further: look out for squalls when you find it.” + +“Sir,” said Silver, “as between man and man, that’s too much and too +little. What you’re after, why you left the block house, why you given +me that there chart, I don’t know, now, do I? And yet I done your +bidding with my eyes shut and never a word of hope! But no, this here’s +too much. If you won’t tell me what you mean plain out, just say so and +I’ll leave the helm.” + +“No,” said the doctor musingly; “I’ve no right to say more; it’s not my +secret, you see, Silver, or, I give you my word, I’d tell it you. But +I’ll go as far with you as I dare go, and a step beyond, for I’ll have +my wig sorted by the captain or I’m mistaken! And first, I’ll give you a +bit of hope; Silver, if we both get alive out of this wolf-trap, I’ll do +my best to save you, short of perjury.” + +Silver’s face was radiant. “You couldn’t say more, I’m sure, sir, not if +you was my mother,” he cried. + +“Well, that’s my first concession,” added the doctor. “My second is a +piece of advice: keep the boy close beside you, and when you need help, +halloo. I’m off to seek it for you, and that itself will show you if I +speak at random. Good-bye, Jim.” + +And Dr. Livesey shook hands with me through the stockade, nodded to +Silver, and set off at a brisk pace into the wood. + + + + +XXXI +The Treasure-hunt--Flint’s Pointer + + +“Jim,” said Silver when we were alone, “if I saved your life, you saved +mine; and I’ll not forget it. I seen the doctor waving you to run for +it--with the tail of my eye, I did; and I seen you say no, as plain as +hearing. Jim, that’s one to you. This is the first glint of hope I had +since the attack failed, and I owe it you. And now, Jim, we’re to go in +for this here treasure-hunting, with sealed orders too, and I don’t like +it; and you and me must stick close, back to back like, and we’ll save +our necks in spite o’ fate and fortune.” + +Just then a man hailed us from the fire that breakfast was ready, and +we were soon seated here and there about the sand over biscuit and fried +junk. They had lit a fire fit to roast an ox, and it was now grown so +hot that they could only approach it from the windward, and even there +not without precaution. In the same wasteful spirit, they had cooked, +I suppose, three times more than we could eat; and one of them, with an +empty laugh, threw what was left into the fire, which blazed and roared +again over this unusual fuel. I never in my life saw men so careless of +the morrow; hand to mouth is the only word that can describe their way +of doing; and what with wasted food and sleeping sentries, though they +were bold enough for a brush and be done with it, I could see their +entire unfitness for anything like a prolonged campaign. + +Even Silver, eating away, with Captain Flint upon his shoulder, had not +a word of blame for their recklessness. And this the more surprised me, +for I thought he had never shown himself so cunning as he did then. + +“Aye, mates,” said he, “it’s lucky you have Barbecue to think for you +with this here head. I got what I wanted, I did. Sure enough, they have +the ship. Where they have it, I don’t know yet; but once we hit the +treasure, we’ll have to jump about and find out. And then, mates, us +that has the boats, I reckon, has the upper hand.” + +Thus he kept running on, with his mouth full of the hot bacon; thus he +restored their hope and confidence, and, I more than suspect, repaired +his own at the same time. + +“As for hostage,” he continued, “that’s his last talk, I guess, with +them he loves so dear. I’ve got my piece o’ news, and thanky to him +for that; but it’s over and done. I’ll take him in a line when we go +treasure-hunting, for we’ll keep him like so much gold, in case of +accidents, you mark, and in the meantime. Once we got the ship and +treasure both and off to sea like jolly companions, why then we’ll talk +Mr. Hawkins over, we will, and we’ll give him his share, to be sure, for +all his kindness.” + +It was no wonder the men were in a good humour now. For my part, I +was horribly cast down. Should the scheme he had now sketched prove +feasible, Silver, already doubly a traitor, would not hesitate to adopt +it. He had still a foot in either camp, and there was no doubt he +would prefer wealth and freedom with the pirates to a bare escape from +hanging, which was the best he had to hope on our side. + +Nay, and even if things so fell out that he was forced to keep his faith +with Dr. Livesey, even then what danger lay before us! What a moment +that would be when the suspicions of his followers turned to certainty +and he and I should have to fight for dear life--he a cripple and I a +boy--against five strong and active seamen! + +Add to this double apprehension the mystery that still hung over the +behaviour of my friends, their unexplained desertion of the stockade, +their inexplicable cession of the chart, or harder still to understand, +the doctor’s last warning to Silver, “Look out for squalls when you +find it,” and you will readily believe how little taste I found in my +breakfast and with how uneasy a heart I set forth behind my captors on +the quest for treasure. + +We made a curious figure, had anyone been there to see us--all in soiled +sailor clothes and all but me armed to the teeth. Silver had two guns +slung about him--one before and one behind--besides the great cutlass +at his waist and a pistol in each pocket of his square-tailed coat. +To complete his strange appearance, Captain Flint sat perched upon his +shoulder and gabbling odds and ends of purposeless sea-talk. I had a +line about my waist and followed obediently after the sea-cook, who +held the loose end of the rope, now in his free hand, now between his +powerful teeth. For all the world, I was led like a dancing bear. + +The other men were variously burthened, some carrying picks and +shovels--for that had been the very first necessary they brought ashore +from the HISPANIOLA--others laden with pork, bread, and brandy for the +midday meal. All the stores, I observed, came from our stock, and I +could see the truth of Silver’s words the night before. Had he not +struck a bargain with the doctor, he and his mutineers, deserted by the +ship, must have been driven to subsist on clear water and the proceeds +of their hunting. Water would have been little to their taste; a sailor +is not usually a good shot; and besides all that, when they were so +short of eatables, it was not likely they would be very flush of powder. + +Well, thus equipped, we all set out--even the fellow with the broken +head, who should certainly have kept in shadow--and straggled, one after +another, to the beach, where the two gigs awaited us. Even these bore +trace of the drunken folly of the pirates, one in a broken thwart, and +both in their muddy and unbailed condition. Both were to be carried +along with us for the sake of safety; and so, with our numbers divided +between them, we set forth upon the bosom of the anchorage. + +As we pulled over, there was some discussion on the chart. The red cross +was, of course, far too large to be a guide; and the terms of the note +on the back, as you will hear, admitted of some ambiguity. They ran, the +reader may remember, thus: + + Tall tree, Spy-glass shoulder, bearing a point to + the N. of N.N.E. + Skeleton Island E.S.E. and by E. + Ten feet. + +A tall tree was thus the principal mark. Now, right before us the +anchorage was bounded by a plateau from two to three hundred feet high, +adjoining on the north the sloping southern shoulder of the Spy-glass +and rising again towards the south into the rough, cliffy eminence +called the Mizzenmast Hill. The top of the plateau was dotted thickly +with pine-trees of varying height. Every here and there, one of a +different species rose forty or fifty feet clear above its neighbours, +and which of these was the particular “tall tree” of Captain Flint could +only be decided on the spot, and by the readings of the compass. + +Yet, although that was the case, every man on board the boats had +picked a favourite of his own ere we were half-way over, Long John alone +shrugging his shoulders and bidding them wait till they were there. + +We pulled easily, by Silver’s directions, not to weary the hands +prematurely, and after quite a long passage, landed at the mouth of +the second river--that which runs down a woody cleft of the Spy-glass. +Thence, bending to our left, we began to ascend the slope towards the +plateau. + +At the first outset, heavy, miry ground and a matted, marish vegetation +greatly delayed our progress; but by little and little the hill began +to steepen and become stony under foot, and the wood to change its +character and to grow in a more open order. It was, indeed, a most +pleasant portion of the island that we were now approaching. A +heavy-scented broom and many flowering shrubs had almost taken the place +of grass. Thickets of green nutmeg-trees were dotted here and there with +the red columns and the broad shadow of the pines; and the first mingled +their spice with the aroma of the others. The air, besides, was fresh +and stirring, and this, under the sheer sunbeams, was a wonderful +refreshment to our senses. + +The party spread itself abroad, in a fan shape, shouting and leaping to +and fro. About the centre, and a good way behind the rest, Silver and +I followed--I tethered by my rope, he ploughing, with deep pants, among +the sliding gravel. From time to time, indeed, I had to lend him a hand, +or he must have missed his footing and fallen backward down the hill. + +We had thus proceeded for about half a mile and were approaching the +brow of the plateau when the man upon the farthest left began to cry +aloud, as if in terror. Shout after shout came from him, and the others +began to run in his direction. + +“He can’t ’a found the treasure,” said old Morgan, hurrying past us from +the right, “for that’s clean a-top.” + +Indeed, as we found when we also reached the spot, it was something +very different. At the foot of a pretty big pine and involved in a green +creeper, which had even partly lifted some of the smaller bones, a human +skeleton lay, with a few shreds of clothing, on the ground. I believe a +chill struck for a moment to every heart. + +“He was a seaman,” said George Merry, who, bolder than the rest, had +gone up close and was examining the rags of clothing. “Leastways, this +is good sea-cloth.” + +“Aye, aye,” said Silver; “like enough; you wouldn’t look to find a +bishop here, I reckon. But what sort of a way is that for bones to lie? +’Tain’t in natur’.” + +Indeed, on a second glance, it seemed impossible to fancy that the body +was in a natural position. But for some disarray (the work, perhaps, of +the birds that had fed upon him or of the slow-growing creeper that had +gradually enveloped his remains) the man lay perfectly straight--his +feet pointing in one direction, his hands, raised above his head like a +diver’s, pointing directly in the opposite. + +“I’ve taken a notion into my old numbskull,” observed Silver. “Here’s +the compass; there’s the tip-top p’int o’ Skeleton Island, stickin’ +out like a tooth. Just take a bearing, will you, along the line of them +bones.” + +It was done. The body pointed straight in the direction of the island, +and the compass read duly E.S.E. and by E. + +“I thought so,” cried the cook; “this here is a p’inter. Right up there +is our line for the Pole Star and the jolly dollars. But, by thunder! +If it don’t make me cold inside to think of Flint. This is one of HIS +jokes, and no mistake. Him and these six was alone here; he killed ’em, +every man; and this one he hauled here and laid down by compass, shiver +my timbers! They’re long bones, and the hair’s been yellow. Aye, that +would be Allardyce. You mind Allardyce, Tom Morgan?” + +“Aye, aye,” returned Morgan; “I mind him; he owed me money, he did, and +took my knife ashore with him.” + +“Speaking of knives,” said another, “why don’t we find his’n lying +round? Flint warn’t the man to pick a seaman’s pocket; and the birds, I +guess, would leave it be.” + +“By the powers, and that’s true!” cried Silver. + +“There ain’t a thing left here,” said Merry, still feeling round among +the bones; “not a copper doit nor a baccy box. It don’t look nat’ral to +me.” + +“No, by gum, it don’t,” agreed Silver; “not nat’ral, nor not nice, says +you. Great guns! Messmates, but if Flint was living, this would be a hot +spot for you and me. Six they were, and six are we; and bones is what +they are now.” + +“I saw him dead with these here deadlights,” said Morgan. “Billy took me +in. There he laid, with penny-pieces on his eyes.” + +“Dead--aye, sure enough he’s dead and gone below,” said the fellow with +the bandage; “but if ever sperrit walked, it would be Flint’s. Dear +heart, but he died bad, did Flint!” + +“Aye, that he did,” observed another; “now he raged, and now he hollered +for the rum, and now he sang. ‘Fifteen Men’ were his only song, mates; +and I tell you true, I never rightly liked to hear it since. It was +main hot, and the windy was open, and I hear that old song comin’ out as +clear as clear--and the death-haul on the man already.” + +“Come, come,” said Silver; “stow this talk. He’s dead, and he don’t +walk, that I know; leastways, he won’t walk by day, and you may lay to +that. Care killed a cat. Fetch ahead for the doubloons.” + +We started, certainly; but in spite of the hot sun and the staring +daylight, the pirates no longer ran separate and shouting through the +wood, but kept side by side and spoke with bated breath. The terror of +the dead buccaneer had fallen on their spirits. + + + + +XXXII +The Treasure-hunt--The Voice Among the Trees + + +Partly from the damping influence of this alarm, partly to rest Silver +and the sick folk, the whole party sat down as soon as they had gained +the brow of the ascent. + +The plateau being somewhat tilted towards the west, this spot on which +we had paused commanded a wide prospect on either hand. Before us, +over the tree-tops, we beheld the Cape of the Woods fringed with surf; +behind, we not only looked down upon the anchorage and Skeleton Island, +but saw--clear across the spit and the eastern lowlands--a great field +of open sea upon the east. Sheer above us rose the Spy-glass, here dotted +with single pines, there black with precipices. There was no sound but +that of the distant breakers, mounting from all round, and the chirp of +countless insects in the brush. Not a man, not a sail, upon the sea; the +very largeness of the view increased the sense of solitude. + +Silver, as he sat, took certain bearings with his compass. + +“There are three ‘tall trees,’” said he, “about in the right line from +Skeleton Island. ‘Spy-glass shoulder,’ I take it, means that lower p’int +there. It’s child’s play to find the stuff now. I’ve half a mind to dine +first.” + +“I don’t feel sharp,” growled Morgan. “Thinkin’ o’ Flint--I think it +were--as done me.” + +“Ah, well, my son, you praise your stars he’s dead,” said Silver. + +“He were an ugly devil,” cried a third pirate with a shudder; “that blue +in the face too!” + +“That was how the rum took him,” added Merry. “Blue! Well, I reckon he +was blue. That’s a true word.” + +Ever since they had found the skeleton and got upon this train of +thought, they had spoken lower and lower, and they had almost got to +whispering by now, so that the sound of their talk hardly interrupted +the silence of the wood. All of a sudden, out of the middle of the trees +in front of us, a thin, high, trembling voice struck up the well-known +air and words: + + “Fifteen men on the dead man’s chest-- + Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!” + +I never have seen men more dreadfully affected than the pirates. The +colour went from their six faces like enchantment; some leaped to their +feet, some clawed hold of others; Morgan grovelled on the ground. + +“It’s Flint, by ----!” cried Merry. + +The song had stopped as suddenly as it began--broken off, you would have +said, in the middle of a note, as though someone had laid his hand upon +the singer’s mouth. Coming through the clear, sunny atmosphere among the +green tree-tops, I thought it had sounded airily and sweetly; and the +effect on my companions was the stranger. + +“Come,” said Silver, struggling with his ashen lips to get the word out; +“this won’t do. Stand by to go about. This is a rum start, and I can’t +name the voice, but it’s someone skylarking--someone that’s flesh and +blood, and you may lay to that.” + +His courage had come back as he spoke, and some of the colour to his +face along with it. Already the others had begun to lend an ear to this +encouragement and were coming a little to themselves, when the same +voice broke out again--not this time singing, but in a faint distant +hail that echoed yet fainter among the clefts of the Spy-glass. + +“Darby M’Graw,” it wailed--for that is the word that best describes the +sound--“Darby M’Graw! Darby M’Graw!” again and again and again; and then +rising a little higher, and with an oath that I leave out: “Fetch aft +the rum, Darby!” + +The buccaneers remained rooted to the ground, their eyes starting from +their heads. Long after the voice had died away they still stared in +silence, dreadfully, before them. + +“That fixes it!” gasped one. “Let’s go.” + +“They was his last words,” moaned Morgan, “his last words above board.” + +Dick had his Bible out and was praying volubly. He had been well brought +up, had Dick, before he came to sea and fell among bad companions. + +Still Silver was unconquered. I could hear his teeth rattle in his head, +but he had not yet surrendered. + +“Nobody in this here island ever heard of Darby,” he muttered; “not one +but us that’s here.” And then, making a great effort: “Shipmates,” + he cried, “I’m here to get that stuff, and I’ll not be beat by man or +devil. I never was feared of Flint in his life, and, by the powers, I’ll +face him dead. There’s seven hundred thousand pound not a quarter of a +mile from here. When did ever a gentleman o’ fortune show his stern to +that much dollars for a boozy old seaman with a blue mug--and him dead +too?” + +But there was no sign of reawakening courage in his followers, rather, +indeed, of growing terror at the irreverence of his words. + +“Belay there, John!” said Merry. “Don’t you cross a sperrit.” + +And the rest were all too terrified to reply. They would have run away +severally had they dared; but fear kept them together, and kept them +close by John, as if his daring helped them. He, on his part, had pretty +well fought his weakness down. + +“Sperrit? Well, maybe,” he said. “But there’s one thing not clear to me. +There was an echo. Now, no man ever seen a sperrit with a shadow; well +then, what’s he doing with an echo to him, I should like to know? That +ain’t in natur’, surely?” + +This argument seemed weak enough to me. But you can never tell what will +affect the superstitious, and to my wonder, George Merry was greatly +relieved. + +“Well, that’s so,” he said. “You’ve a head upon your shoulders, John, +and no mistake. ’Bout ship, mates! This here crew is on a wrong tack, I +do believe. And come to think on it, it was like Flint’s voice, I +grant you, but not just so clear-away like it, after all. It was liker +somebody else’s voice now--it was liker--” + +“By the powers, Ben Gunn!” roared Silver. + +“Aye, and so it were,” cried Morgan, springing on his knees. “Ben Gunn +it were!” + +“It don’t make much odds, do it, now?” asked Dick. “Ben Gunn’s not here +in the body any more’n Flint.” + +But the older hands greeted this remark with scorn. + +“Why, nobody minds Ben Gunn,” cried Merry; “dead or alive, nobody minds +him.” + +It was extraordinary how their spirits had returned and how the natural +colour had revived in their faces. Soon they were chatting together, +with intervals of listening; and not long after, hearing no further +sound, they shouldered the tools and set forth again, Merry walking +first with Silver’s compass to keep them on the right line with Skeleton +Island. He had said the truth: dead or alive, nobody minded Ben Gunn. + +Dick alone still held his Bible, and looked around him as he went, with +fearful glances; but he found no sympathy, and Silver even joked him on +his precautions. + +“I told you,” said he--“I told you you had sp’iled your Bible. If it +ain’t no good to swear by, what do you suppose a sperrit would give for +it? Not that!” and he snapped his big fingers, halting a moment on his +crutch. + +But Dick was not to be comforted; indeed, it was soon plain to me that +the lad was falling sick; hastened by heat, exhaustion, and the shock +of his alarm, the fever, predicted by Dr. Livesey, was evidently growing +swiftly higher. + +It was fine open walking here, upon the summit; our way lay a little +downhill, for, as I have said, the plateau tilted towards the west. The +pines, great and small, grew wide apart; and even between the clumps of +nutmeg and azalea, wide open spaces baked in the hot sunshine. Striking, +as we did, pretty near north-west across the island, we drew, on the +one hand, ever nearer under the shoulders of the Spy-glass, and on the +other, looked ever wider over that western bay where I had once tossed +and trembled in the coracle. + +The first of the tall trees was reached, and by the bearings proved the +wrong one. So with the second. The third rose nearly two hundred feet +into the air above a clump of underwood--a giant of a vegetable, with +a red column as big as a cottage, and a wide shadow around in which a +company could have manoeuvred. It was conspicuous far to sea both on +the east and west and might have been entered as a sailing mark upon the +chart. + +But it was not its size that now impressed my companions; it was the +knowledge that seven hundred thousand pounds in gold lay somewhere +buried below its spreading shadow. The thought of the money, as they +drew nearer, swallowed up their previous terrors. Their eyes burned in +their heads; their feet grew speedier and lighter; their whole soul +was bound up in that fortune, that whole lifetime of extravagance and +pleasure, that lay waiting there for each of them. + +Silver hobbled, grunting, on his crutch; his nostrils stood out and +quivered; he cursed like a madman when the flies settled on his hot and +shiny countenance; he plucked furiously at the line that held me to +him and from time to time turned his eyes upon me with a deadly look. +Certainly he took no pains to hide his thoughts, and certainly I read +them like print. In the immediate nearness of the gold, all else had +been forgotten: his promise and the doctor’s warning were both things +of the past, and I could not doubt that he hoped to seize upon the +treasure, find and board the HISPANIOLA under cover of night, cut +every honest throat about that island, and sail away as he had at first +intended, laden with crimes and riches. + +Shaken as I was with these alarms, it was hard for me to keep up with +the rapid pace of the treasure-hunters. Now and again I stumbled, and it +was then that Silver plucked so roughly at the rope and launched at me +his murderous glances. Dick, who had dropped behind us and now brought +up the rear, was babbling to himself both prayers and curses as his +fever kept rising. This also added to my wretchedness, and to crown all, +I was haunted by the thought of the tragedy that had once been acted +on that plateau, when that ungodly buccaneer with the blue face--he who +died at Savannah, singing and shouting for drink--had there, with his +own hand, cut down his six accomplices. This grove that was now so +peaceful must then have rung with cries, I thought; and even with the +thought I could believe I heard it ringing still. + +We were now at the margin of the thicket. + +“Huzza, mates, all together!” shouted Merry; and the foremost broke into +a run. + +And suddenly, not ten yards further, we beheld them stop. A low cry +arose. Silver doubled his pace, digging away with the foot of his crutch +like one possessed; and next moment he and I had come also to a dead +halt. + +Before us was a great excavation, not very recent, for the sides had +fallen in and grass had sprouted on the bottom. In this were the shaft +of a pick broken in two and the boards of several packing-cases strewn +around. On one of these boards I saw, branded with a hot iron, the name +WALRUS--the name of Flint’s ship. + +All was clear to probation. The CACHE had been found and rifled; the +seven hundred thousand pounds were gone! + + + + +XXXIII +The Fall of a Chieftain + + +There never was such an overturn in this world. Each of these six men +was as though he had been struck. But with Silver the blow passed almost +instantly. Every thought of his soul had been set full-stretch, like a +racer, on that money; well, he was brought up, in a single second, dead; +and he kept his head, found his temper, and changed his plan before the +others had had time to realize the disappointment. + +“Jim,” he whispered, “take that, and stand by for trouble.” + +And he passed me a double-barrelled pistol. + +At the same time, he began quietly moving northward, and in a few steps +had put the hollow between us two and the other five. Then he looked at +me and nodded, as much as to say, “Here is a narrow corner,” as, indeed, +I thought it was. His looks were not quite friendly, and I was so +revolted at these constant changes that I could not forbear whispering, +“So you’ve changed sides again.” + +There was no time left for him to answer in. The buccaneers, with oaths +and cries, began to leap, one after another, into the pit and to dig +with their fingers, throwing the boards aside as they did so. Morgan +found a piece of gold. He held it up with a perfect spout of oaths. It +was a two-guinea piece, and it went from hand to hand among them for a +quarter of a minute. + +“Two guineas!” roared Merry, shaking it at Silver. “That’s your seven +hundred thousand pounds, is it? You’re the man for bargains, ain’t you? +You’re him that never bungled nothing, you wooden-headed lubber!” + +“Dig away, boys,” said Silver with the coolest insolence; “you’ll find +some pig-nuts and I shouldn’t wonder.” + +“Pig-nuts!” repeated Merry, in a scream. “Mates, do you hear that? I +tell you now, that man there knew it all along. Look in the face of him +and you’ll see it wrote there.” + +“Ah, Merry,” remarked Silver, “standing for cap’n again? You’re a +pushing lad, to be sure.” + +But this time everyone was entirely in Merry’s favour. They began to +scramble out of the excavation, darting furious glances behind them. One +thing I observed, which looked well for us: they all got out upon the +opposite side from Silver. + +Well, there we stood, two on one side, five on the other, the pit +between us, and nobody screwed up high enough to offer the first blow. +Silver never moved; he watched them, very upright on his crutch, and +looked as cool as ever I saw him. He was brave, and no mistake. + +At last Merry seemed to think a speech might help matters. + +“Mates,” says he, “there’s two of them alone there; one’s the old +cripple that brought us all here and blundered us down to this; the +other’s that cub that I mean to have the heart of. Now, mates--” + +He was raising his arm and his voice, and plainly meant to lead a +charge. But just then--crack! crack! crack!--three musket-shots flashed +out of the thicket. Merry tumbled head foremost into the excavation; the +man with the bandage spun round like a teetotum and fell all his length +upon his side, where he lay dead, but still twitching; and the other +three turned and ran for it with all their might. + +Before you could wink, Long John had fired two barrels of a pistol into +the struggling Merry, and as the man rolled up his eyes at him in the +last agony, “George,” said he, “I reckon I settled you.” + +At the same moment, the doctor, Gray, and Ben Gunn joined us, with +smoking muskets, from among the nutmeg-trees. + +“Forward!” cried the doctor. “Double quick, my lads. We must head ’em +off the boats.” + +And we set off at a great pace, sometimes plunging through the bushes to +the chest. + +I tell you, but Silver was anxious to keep up with us. The work that man +went through, leaping on his crutch till the muscles of his chest were +fit to burst, was work no sound man ever equalled; and so thinks the +doctor. As it was, he was already thirty yards behind us and on the +verge of strangling when we reached the brow of the slope. + +“Doctor,” he hailed, “see there! No hurry!” + +Sure enough there was no hurry. In a more open part of the plateau, we +could see the three survivors still running in the same direction as +they had started, right for Mizzenmast Hill. We were already between +them and the boats; and so we four sat down to breathe, while Long John, +mopping his face, came slowly up with us. + +“Thank ye kindly, doctor,” says he. “You came in in about the nick, I +guess, for me and Hawkins. And so it’s you, Ben Gunn!” he added. “Well, +you’re a nice one, to be sure.” + +“I’m Ben Gunn, I am,” replied the maroon, wriggling like an eel in his +embarrassment. “And,” he added, after a long pause, “how do, Mr. Silver? +Pretty well, I thank ye, says you.” + +“Ben, Ben,” murmured Silver, “to think as you’ve done me!” + +The doctor sent back Gray for one of the pick-axes deserted, in their +flight, by the mutineers, and then as we proceeded leisurely downhill to +where the boats were lying, related in a few words what had taken place. +It was a story that profoundly interested Silver; and Ben Gunn, the +half-idiot maroon, was the hero from beginning to end. + +Ben, in his long, lonely wanderings about the island, had found the +skeleton--it was he that had rifled it; he had found the treasure; he +had dug it up (it was the haft of his pick-axe that lay broken in the +excavation); he had carried it on his back, in many weary journeys, from +the foot of the tall pine to a cave he had on the two-pointed hill at +the north-east angle of the island, and there it had lain stored in +safety since two months before the arrival of the HISPANIOLA. + +When the doctor had wormed this secret from him on the afternoon of the +attack, and when next morning he saw the anchorage deserted, he had gone +to Silver, given him the chart, which was now useless--given him the +stores, for Ben Gunn’s cave was well supplied with goats’ meat salted +by himself--given anything and everything to get a chance of moving in +safety from the stockade to the two-pointed hill, there to be clear of +malaria and keep a guard upon the money. + +“As for you, Jim,” he said, “it went against my heart, but I did what I +thought best for those who had stood by their duty; and if you were not +one of these, whose fault was it?” + +That morning, finding that I was to be involved in the horrid +disappointment he had prepared for the mutineers, he had run all the way +to the cave, and leaving the squire to guard the captain, had taken Gray +and the maroon and started, making the diagonal across the island to be +at hand beside the pine. Soon, however, he saw that our party had the +start of him; and Ben Gunn, being fleet of foot, had been dispatched in +front to do his best alone. Then it had occurred to him to work upon the +superstitions of his former shipmates, and he was so far successful that +Gray and the doctor had come up and were already ambushed before the +arrival of the treasure-hunters. + +“Ah,” said Silver, “it were fortunate for me that I had Hawkins here. +You would have let old John be cut to bits, and never given it a +thought, doctor.” + +“Not a thought,” replied Dr. Livesey cheerily. + +And by this time we had reached the gigs. The doctor, with the pick-axe, +demolished one of them, and then we all got aboard the other and set out +to go round by sea for North Inlet. + +This was a run of eight or nine miles. Silver, though he was almost +killed already with fatigue, was set to an oar, like the rest of us, and +we were soon skimming swiftly over a smooth sea. Soon we passed out +of the straits and doubled the south-east corner of the island, round +which, four days ago, we had towed the HISPANIOLA. + +As we passed the two-pointed hill, we could see the black mouth of Ben +Gunn’s cave and a figure standing by it, leaning on a musket. It was the +squire, and we waved a handkerchief and gave him three cheers, in which +the voice of Silver joined as heartily as any. + +Three miles farther, just inside the mouth of North Inlet, what should +we meet but the HISPANIOLA, cruising by herself? The last flood had +lifted her, and had there been much wind or a strong tide current, as +in the southern anchorage, we should never have found her more, or found +her stranded beyond help. As it was, there was little amiss beyond the +wreck of the main-sail. Another anchor was got ready and dropped in a +fathom and a half of water. We all pulled round again to Rum Cove, +the nearest point for Ben Gunn’s treasure-house; and then Gray, +single-handed, returned with the gig to the HISPANIOLA, where he was to +pass the night on guard. + +A gentle slope ran up from the beach to the entrance of the cave. At the +top, the squire met us. To me he was cordial and kind, saying nothing +of my escapade either in the way of blame or praise. At Silver’s polite +salute he somewhat flushed. + +“John Silver,” he said, “you’re a prodigious villain and imposter--a +monstrous imposter, sir. I am told I am not to prosecute you. Well, +then, I will not. But the dead men, sir, hang about your neck like +mill-stones.” + +“Thank you kindly, sir,” replied Long John, again saluting. + +“I dare you to thank me!” cried the squire. “It is a gross dereliction +of my duty. Stand back.” + +And thereupon we all entered the cave. It was a large, airy place, with +a little spring and a pool of clear water, overhung with ferns. The +floor was sand. Before a big fire lay Captain Smollett; and in a far +corner, only duskily flickered over by the blaze, I beheld great heaps +of coin and quadrilaterals built of bars of gold. That was Flint’s +treasure that we had come so far to seek and that had cost already the +lives of seventeen men from the HISPANIOLA. How many it had cost in the +amassing, what blood and sorrow, what good ships scuttled on the deep, +what brave men walking the plank blindfold, what shot of cannon, what +shame and lies and cruelty, perhaps no man alive could tell. Yet there +were still three upon that island--Silver, and old Morgan, and Ben +Gunn--who had each taken his share in these crimes, as each had hoped in +vain to share in the reward. + +“Come in, Jim,” said the captain. “You’re a good boy in your line, Jim, +but I don’t think you and me’ll go to sea again. You’re too much of the +born favourite for me. Is that you, John Silver? What brings you here, +man?” + +“Come back to my dooty, sir,” returned Silver. + +“Ah!” said the captain, and that was all he said. + +What a supper I had of it that night, with all my friends around me; and +what a meal it was, with Ben Gunn’s salted goat and some delicacies and +a bottle of old wine from the HISPANIOLA. Never, I am sure, were people +gayer or happier. And there was Silver, sitting back almost out of the +firelight, but eating heartily, prompt to spring forward when anything +was wanted, even joining quietly in our laughter--the same bland, +polite, obsequious seaman of the voyage out. + + + + +XXXIV +And Last + + +The next morning we fell early to work, for the transportation of this +great mass of gold near a mile by land to the beach, and thence three +miles by boat to the HISPANIOLA, was a considerable task for so small +a number of workmen. The three fellows still abroad upon the island did +not greatly trouble us; a single sentry on the shoulder of the hill was +sufficient to ensure us against any sudden onslaught, and we thought, +besides, they had had more than enough of fighting. + +Therefore the work was pushed on briskly. Gray and Ben Gunn came and +went with the boat, while the rest during their absences piled treasure +on the beach. Two of the bars, slung in a rope’s end, made a good load +for a grown man--one that he was glad to walk slowly with. For my part, +as I was not much use at carrying, I was kept busy all day in the cave +packing the minted money into bread-bags. + +It was a strange collection, like Billy Bones’s hoard for the diversity +of coinage, but so much larger and so much more varied that I think I +never had more pleasure than in sorting them. English, French, Spanish, +Portuguese, Georges, and Louises, doubloons and double guineas and +moidores and sequins, the pictures of all the kings of Europe for the +last hundred years, strange Oriental pieces stamped with what looked +like wisps of string or bits of spider’s web, round pieces and square +pieces, and pieces bored through the middle, as if to wear them round +your neck--nearly every variety of money in the world must, I think, +have found a place in that collection; and for number, I am sure they +were like autumn leaves, so that my back ached with stooping and my +fingers with sorting them out. + +Day after day this work went on; by every evening a fortune had been +stowed aboard, but there was another fortune waiting for the morrow; and +all this time we heard nothing of the three surviving mutineers. + +At last--I think it was on the third night--the doctor and I were +strolling on the shoulder of the hill where it overlooks the lowlands of +the isle, when, from out the thick darkness below, the wind brought us +a noise between shrieking and singing. It was only a snatch that reached +our ears, followed by the former silence. + +“Heaven forgive them,” said the doctor; “’tis the mutineers!” + +“All drunk, sir,” struck in the voice of Silver from behind us. + +Silver, I should say, was allowed his entire liberty, and in spite of +daily rebuffs, seemed to regard himself once more as quite a privileged +and friendly dependent. Indeed, it was remarkable how well he bore +these slights and with what unwearying politeness he kept on trying to +ingratiate himself with all. Yet, I think, none treated him better than +a dog, unless it was Ben Gunn, who was still terribly afraid of his old +quartermaster, or myself, who had really something to thank him for; +although for that matter, I suppose, I had reason to think even worse of +him than anybody else, for I had seen him meditating a fresh treachery +upon the plateau. Accordingly, it was pretty gruffly that the doctor +answered him. + +“Drunk or raving,” said he. + +“Right you were, sir,” replied Silver; “and precious little odds which, +to you and me.” + +“I suppose you would hardly ask me to call you a humane man,” returned +the doctor with a sneer, “and so my feelings may surprise you, Master +Silver. But if I were sure they were raving--as I am morally certain +one, at least, of them is down with fever--I should leave this camp, +and at whatever risk to my own carcass, take them the assistance of my +skill.” + +“Ask your pardon, sir, you would be very wrong,” quoth Silver. “You +would lose your precious life, and you may lay to that. I’m on your side +now, hand and glove; and I shouldn’t wish for to see the party weakened, +let alone yourself, seeing as I know what I owes you. But these men down +there, they couldn’t keep their word--no, not supposing they wished to; +and what’s more, they couldn’t believe as you could.” + +“No,” said the doctor. “You’re the man to keep your word, we know that.” + +Well, that was about the last news we had of the three pirates. Only +once we heard a gunshot a great way off and supposed them to be hunting. +A council was held, and it was decided that we must desert them on the +island--to the huge glee, I must say, of Ben Gunn, and with the strong +approval of Gray. We left a good stock of powder and shot, the bulk +of the salt goat, a few medicines, and some other necessaries, tools, +clothing, a spare sail, a fathom or two of rope, and by the particular +desire of the doctor, a handsome present of tobacco. + +That was about our last doing on the island. Before that, we had got the +treasure stowed and had shipped enough water and the remainder of the +goat meat in case of any distress; and at last, one fine morning, we +weighed anchor, which was about all that we could manage, and stood out +of North Inlet, the same colours flying that the captain had flown and +fought under at the palisade. + +The three fellows must have been watching us closer than we thought for, +as we soon had proved. For coming through the narrows, we had to +lie very near the southern point, and there we saw all three of +them kneeling together on a spit of sand, with their arms raised in +supplication. It went to all our hearts, I think, to leave them in that +wretched state; but we could not risk another mutiny; and to take them +home for the gibbet would have been a cruel sort of kindness. The doctor +hailed them and told them of the stores we had left, and where they were +to find them. But they continued to call us by name and appeal to us, +for God’s sake, to be merciful and not leave them to die in such a +place. + +At last, seeing the ship still bore on her course and was now swiftly +drawing out of earshot, one of them--I know not which it was--leapt to +his feet with a hoarse cry, whipped his musket to his shoulder, and sent +a shot whistling over Silver’s head and through the main-sail. + +After that, we kept under cover of the bulwarks, and when next I looked +out they had disappeared from the spit, and the spit itself had almost +melted out of sight in the growing distance. That was, at least, the end +of that; and before noon, to my inexpressible joy, the highest rock of +Treasure Island had sunk into the blue round of sea. + +We were so short of men that everyone on board had to bear a hand--only +the captain lying on a mattress in the stern and giving his orders, for +though greatly recovered he was still in want of quiet. We laid her +head for the nearest port in Spanish America, for we could not risk the +voyage home without fresh hands; and as it was, what with baffling winds +and a couple of fresh gales, we were all worn out before we reached it. + +It was just at sundown when we cast anchor in a most beautiful +land-locked gulf, and were immediately surrounded by shore boats full +of Negroes and Mexican Indians and half-bloods selling fruits and +vegetables and offering to dive for bits of money. The sight of so many +good-humoured faces (especially the blacks), the taste of the tropical +fruits, and above all the lights that began to shine in the town made a +most charming contrast to our dark and bloody sojourn on the island; +and the doctor and the squire, taking me along with them, went ashore +to pass the early part of the night. Here they met the captain of an +English man-of-war, fell in talk with him, went on board his ship, and, +in short, had so agreeable a time that day was breaking when we came +alongside the HISPANIOLA. + +Ben Gunn was on deck alone, and as soon as we came on board he began, +with wonderful contortions, to make us a confession. Silver was gone. +The maroon had connived at his escape in a shore boat some hours ago, +and he now assured us he had only done so to preserve our lives, which +would certainly have been forfeit if “that man with the one leg +had stayed aboard.” But this was not all. The sea-cook had not gone +empty-handed. He had cut through a bulkhead unobserved and had removed +one of the sacks of coin, worth perhaps three or four hundred guineas, +to help him on his further wanderings. + +I think we were all pleased to be so cheaply quit of him. + +Well, to make a long story short, we got a few hands on board, made a +good cruise home, and the HISPANIOLA reached Bristol just as Mr. Blandly +was beginning to think of fitting out her consort. Five men only of +those who had sailed returned with her. “Drink and the devil had done +for the rest,” with a vengeance, although, to be sure, we were not quite +in so bad a case as that other ship they sang about: + + With one man of her crew alive, + What put to sea with seventy-five. + +All of us had an ample share of the treasure and used it wisely or +foolishly, according to our natures. Captain Smollett is now retired +from the sea. Gray not only saved his money, but being suddenly smit +with the desire to rise, also studied his profession, and he is now +mate and part owner of a fine full-rigged ship, married besides, and the +father of a family. As for Ben Gunn, he got a thousand pounds, which he +spent or lost in three weeks, or to be more exact, in nineteen days, for +he was back begging on the twentieth. Then he was given a lodge to keep, +exactly as he had feared upon the island; and he still lives, a great +favourite, though something of a butt, with the country boys, and a +notable singer in church on Sundays and saints’ days. + +Of Silver we have heard no more. That formidable seafaring man with one +leg has at last gone clean out of my life; but I dare say he met his old +Negress, and perhaps still lives in comfort with her and Captain Flint. +It is to be hoped so, I suppose, for his chances of comfort in another +world are very small. + +The bar silver and the arms still lie, for all that I know, where +Flint buried them; and certainly they shall lie there for me. Oxen and +wain-ropes would not bring me back again to that accursed island; and +the worst dreams that ever I have are when I hear the surf booming about +its coasts or start upright in bed with the sharp voice of Captain Flint +still ringing in my ears: “Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!” \ No newline at end of file