`` All right , '' I answered . `` I 'll bring you port , Mr. Hands . But I 'll have to dig for it . '' With that I scuttled down the companion with all the noise I could , slipped off my shoes , ran quietly along the sparred gallery , mounted the forecastle ladder , and popped my head out of the fore companion . I knew he would not expect to see me there , yet I took every precaution possible , and certainly the worst of my suspicions proved too true . He had risen from his position to his hands and knees , and though his leg obviously hurt him pretty sharply when he moved -- for I could hear him stifle a groan -- yet it was at a good , rattling rate that he trailed himself across the deck . In half a minute he had reached the port scuppers and picked , out of a coil of rope , a long knife , or rather a short dirk , discoloured to the hilt with blood . He looked upon it for a moment , thrusting forth his under jaw , tried the point upon his hand , and then , hastily concealing it in the bosom of his jacket , trundled back again into his old place against the bulwark . This was all that I required to know . Israel could move about , he was now armed , and if he had been at so much trouble to get rid of me , it was plain that I was meant to be the victim . What he would do afterwards -- whether he would try to crawl right across the island from North Inlet to the camp among the swamps or whether he would fire Long Tom , trusting that his own comrades might come first to help him -- was , of course , more than I could say . Yet I felt sure that I could trust him in one point , since in that our interests jumped together , and that was in the disposition of the schooner . We both desired to have her stranded safe enough , in a sheltered place , and so that , when the time came , she could be got off again with as little labour and danger as might be ; and until that was done I considered that my life would certainly be spared . While I was thus turning the business over in my mind , I had not been idle with my body . I had stolen back to the cabin , slipped once more into my shoes , and laid my hand at random on a bottle of wine , and now , with this for an excuse , I made my reappearance on the deck . Hands lay as I had left him , all fallen together in a bundle and with his eyelids lowered as though he were too weak to bear the light . He looked up , however , at my coming , knocked the neck off the bottle like a man who had done the same thing often , and took a good swig , with his favourite toast of `` Here 's luck ! '' Then he lay quiet for a little , and then , pulling out a stick of tobacco , begged me to cut him a quid . `` Cut me a junk o ' that , '' says he , `` for I have n't no knife and hardly strength enough , so be as I had . Ah , Jim , Jim , I reckon I 've missed stays !
Cut me a XXXXX , as 'll likely be the last , lad , for I 'm for my long home , and no mistake . ''
Hands Tom dirk fire first labour left quid scuppers tobacco