The rocks of the Spy-glass re-echoed it a score of times ; the whole troop of marsh-birds rose again , darkening heaven , with a simultaneous whirr ; and long after that death yell was still ringing in my brain , silence had re-established its empire , and only the rustle of the redescending birds and the boom of the distant surges disturbed the languor of the afternoon . Tom had leaped at the sound , like a horse at the spur , but Silver had not winked an eye . He stood where he was , resting lightly on his crutch , watching his companion like a snake about to spring . `` John ! '' said the sailor , stretching out his hand . `` Hands off ! '' cried Silver , leaping back a yard , as it seemed to me , with the speed and security of a trained gymnast . `` Hands off , if you like , John Silver , '' said the other . `` It 's a black conscience that can make you feared of me . But in heaven 's name , tell me , what was that ? '' `` That ? '' returned Silver , smiling away , but warier than ever , his eye a mere pin-point in his big face , but gleaming like a crumb of glass . `` That ? Oh , I reckon that 'll be Alan . '' And at this point Tom flashed out like a hero . `` Alan ! '' he cried . `` Then rest his soul for a true seaman ! And as for you , John Silver , long you 've been a mate of mine , but you 're mate of mine no more . If I die like a dog , I 'll die in my dooty .
You 've killed XXXXX , have you ?
Alan John Silver Spy-glass Tom afternoon dooty languor marsh-birds whirr