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.

PART SIX--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!”