Chapter: THE BLACK SPOT


About noon I stopped at the captain's door with some cooling drinks and
medicines. He was lying very much as we had left him, only a little
higher, and he seemed both weak and excited.

"Jim," he said, "you're the only one here that's worth anything; and you
know I've always been good to you. Never a month but I've given you a
silver fourpenny for yourself. And now you see, mate, I'm pretty low,
and deserted by all; and, Jim, you'll bring me one noggin of rum, now,
won't you, matey?"

"The doctor--" I began.

But he broke in, cursing the doctor in a feeble voice, but heartily.
"Doctors is all swabs," he said; "and that doctor there, why, what do he
know about seafaring men? I been in places hot as pitch, and mates
dropping round with yellow jack, and the blessed land a-heaving like the
sea with earthquakes--what do the doctor know of lands like that?--and I
lived on rum, I tell you. It's been meat and drink, and man and wife, to
me; and if I am not to have my rum now I'm a poor old hulk on a lee
shore. My blood'll be on you, Jim, and that doctor swab," and he ran on
again for a while with curses. "Look, Jim, how my fingers fidges," he
continued in the pleading tone. "I can't keep 'em still, not I. I
haven't had a drop this blessed day. That doctor's a fool, I tell you.
If I don't have a drain o' rum, Jim, I'll have the horrors; I seen some
on 'em already. I seen old Flint in the corner there, behind you; as
plain as print, I seen him; and if I get the horrors, I'm a man that has
lived rough, and I'll raise Cain. Your doctor hisself said one glass
wouldn't hurt me. I'll give you a golden guinea for a noggin, Jim."

He was growing more and more excited, and this alarmed me, for my
father, who was very low that day, needed quiet; besides, I was
reassured by the doctor's words, now quoted to me, and rather offended
by the offer of a bribe.

"I want none of your money," said I, "but what you owe my father. I'll
get you one glass and no more."

When I brought it to him he seized it greedily and drank it out.

"Ay, ay," said he, "that's some better, sure enough. And now, matey, did
that doctor say how long I was to lie here in this old berth?"

"A week at least," said I.

"Thunder!" he cried. "A week! I can't do that; they'd have the black
spot on me by then. The lubbers is going about to get the wind of me
this blessed moment; lubbers as couldn't keep what they got, and want to
nail what is another's. Is that seamanly behavior, now, I want to know?
But I'm a saving soul. I never wasted good money of mine, nor lost it
neither; and I'll trick 'em again. I'm not afraid on 'em. I'll shake out
another reef, matey, and daddle 'em again."

As he was thus speaking, he had risen from bed with great difficulty,
holding to my shoulder with a grip that almost made me cry out, and
moving his legs like so much dead weight. His words, spirited as they
were in meaning, contrasted sadly with the weakness of the voice in
which they were uttered. He paused when he had got into a sitting
position on the edge.

"That doctor's done me," he murmured. "My ears is singing. Lay me back."

Before I could do much to help him he had fallen back again to his
former place, where he lay for a while silent.

"Jim," he said, at length, "you saw that seafaring man to-day?"

"Black Dog?" I asked.

"Ah! Black Dog," said he. "_He's_ a bad 'un; but there's worse that put
him on. Now, if I can't get away nohow, and they tip me the black spot,
mind you, it's my old sea-chest they're after; you get on a horse--you
can, can't you? Well, then, you get on a horse and go to--well, yes, I
will!--to that eternal doctor swab, and tell him to pipe all
hands--magistrates and sich--and he'll lay 'em aboard at the 'Admiral
Benbow'--all old Flint's crew, man and boy, all on 'em that's left. I
was first mate, I was, old Flint's first mate, and I'm the on'y one as
knows the place. He gave it me at Savannah, when he lay a-dying, like as
if I was to now, you see. But you won't peach unless they get the black
spot on me, or unless you see that Black Dog again, or a seafaring man
with one leg, Jim--him above all."

"But what is the black spot, captain?" I asked.

"That's a summons, mate. I'll tell you if they get that. But you keep
your weather-eye open, Jim, and I'll share with you equals, upon my
honor."

He wandered a little longer, his voice growing weaker; but soon after I
had given him his medicine, which he took like a child, with the remark,
"If ever a seaman wanted drugs, it's me," he fell at last into a heavy,
swoon-like sleep, in which I left him. What I should have done had all
gone well I do not know. Probably I should have told the whole story to
the doctor; for I was in mortal fear lest the captain should repent of
his confessions and make an end of me. But as things fell out, my poor
father died quite suddenly that evening, which put all other matters on
one side. Our natural distress, the visits of the neighbors, the
arranging of the funeral, and all the work of the inn to be carried on
in the meanwhile, kept me so busy that I had scarcely time to think of
the captain, far less to be afraid of him.

He got downstairs next morning, to be sure, and had his meals as usual,
though he ate little, and had more, I am afraid, than his usual supply
of rum, for he helped himself out of the bar, scowling and blowing
through his nose, and no one dared to cross him. On the night before the
funeral he was as drunk as ever; and it was shocking, in that house of
mourning, to hear him singing away his ugly old sea-song; but, weak as
he was, we were all in fear of death for him, and the doctor was
suddenly taken up with a case many miles away, and was never near the
house after my father's death. I have said the captain was weak, and
indeed he seemed rather to grow weaker than to regain his strength. He
clambered up and down stairs, and went from the parlor to the bar and
back again, and sometimes put his nose out of doors to smell the sea,
holding on to the walls as he went for support, and breathing hard and
fast, like a man on a steep mountain. He never particularly addressed
me, and it is my belief he had as good as forgotten his confidences; but
his temper was more flighty, and, allowing for his bodily weakness, more
violent than ever. He had an alarming way now when he was drunk of
drawing his cutlass and laying it bare before him on the table. But,
with all that, he minded people less, and seemed shut up in his own
thoughts and rather wandering. Once, for instance, to our extreme
wonder, he piped up to a different air, a kind of country love-song,
that he must have learned in his youth before he had begun to follow the
sea.

So things passed until the day after the funeral and about three o'clock
of a bitter, foggy, frosty afternoon, I was standing at the door for a
moment, full of sad thoughts about my father, when I saw someone drawing
slowly near along the road. He was plainly blind, for he tapped before
him with a stick, and wore a great green shade over his eyes and nose;
and he was hunched, as if with age or weakness, and wore a huge old
tattered sea-cloak with a hood that made him appear positively deformed.
I never saw in my life a more dreadful-looking figure. He stopped a
little from the inn and, raising his voice in an odd sing-song,
addressed the air in front of him:

"Will any kind friend inform a poor blind man, who has lost the precious
sight of his eyes in the gracious defense of his native country,
England, and God bless King George!--where or in what part of this
country he may now be?"

"You are at the 'Admiral Benbow,' Black Hill Cove, my good man," said I.

"I hear a voice," said he, "a young voice. Will you give me your hand,
my kind young friend, and lead me in?"

I held out my hand, and the horrible, soft-spoken, eyeless creature
gripped it in a moment like a vise. I was so much startled that I
struggled to withdraw, but the blind man pulled me close up to him with
a single action of his arm.

"Now, boy," he said, "take me in to the captain."

"Sir," said I, "upon my word I dare not."

"Oh," he sneered, "that's it! Take me in straight, or I'll break your
arm."

He gave it, as he spoke, a wrench that made me cry out.

"Sir," said I, "it is for yourself I mean. The captain is not what he
used to be. He sits with a drawn cutlass. Another gentleman--"

"Come, now, march," interrupted he, and I never heard a voice so cruel,
and cold, and ugly as that blind man's. It cowed me more than the pain,
and I began to obey him at once, walking straight in at the door and
towards the parlor, where the sick old buccaneer was sitting, dazed with
rum. The blind man clung close to me, holding me in one iron fist, and
leaning almost more of his weight on me than I could carry. "Lead me
straight up to him, and when I'm in view, cry out, 'Here's a friend for
you, Bill.' If you don't, I'll do this," and with that he gave me a
twitch that I thought would have made me faint. Between this and that, I
was so utterly terrified by the blind beggar that I forgot my terror of
the captain, and as I opened the parlor door, cried out the words he had
ordered in a trembling voice.

The poor captain raised his eyes, and at one look the rum went out of
him and left him staring sober. The expression of his face was not so
much of terror as of mortal sickness. He made a movement to rise, but I
do not believe he had enough force left in his body.

"Now, Bill, sit where you are," said the beggar. "If I can't see, I can
hear a finger stirring. Business is business. Hold out your left hand.
Boy, take his left hand by the wrist and bring it near to my right."

We both obeyed him to the letter, and I saw him pass something from the
hollow of the hand that held his stick into the palm of the captain's,
which closed upon it instantly.

"And now that's done," said the blind man, and at the words he suddenly
left hold of me, and with incredible accuracy and nimbleness, skipped
out of the parlor and into the road, where, as I stood motionless, I
could hear his stick go tap-tap-tapping into the distance.

It was some time before either I or the captain seemed to gather our
senses; but at length, and about the same moment, I released his wrist,
which I was still holding, and he drew in his hand, and looked sharply
into the palm.

"Ten o'clock!" he cried. "Six hours! We'll do them yet!" and he sprang
to his feet.

Even as he did so, he reeled, put his hand to his throat, stood swaying
for a moment, and then, with a peculiar sound, fell from his whole
height face foremost to the floor.

I ran to him at once, calling to my mother. But haste was all in vain.
The captain had been struck dead by thundering apoplexy. It is a curious
thing to understand, for I had certainly never liked the man, though of
late I had begun to pity him, but as soon as I saw that he was dead I
burst into a flood of tears. It was the second death I had known, and
the sorrow of the first was still fresh in my heart.

 As he recovers, the Captain continues with his urge to drink. Pleading for a drink from Jim, the Captain tries all the techniques possible to convince him to serve him a drink: From reminding Jim about the regular wage he earned from him, to befriending him and calling him his matey. Jim refused all of his requests, as the doctor had advised against it. Refusing to listen to Jim, the Captain goes on a boasting spree giving examples of the deadly places he has been to, the terrifying men he has encountered and how he had lived on rum. He calls it his meat, drink, and wife. He tells Jim that he is experiencing withdrawal symptoms and that strange images are haunting him regularly. He also offers Jim a bribe of one gold guinea. Jim gets quite offended by this offer. Finally, after seeing how upset and agitated the Captain has become, Jim worries about the Captain disrupting the other patrons of the Inn, Jim gets him a drink on the condition that the Captain will repay all the money he owes his father. Regaining his original composure after downing the rum he refuses to stay in bed for a week. He manages to get up from the bed with Jims help and tells him that if he stayed at the Inn for long theyd have the Black Spot on him. But he soon realizes he is too weak to go and settles down in bed. He also kept on grumbling about many things which Jim doesn't understand. Except the term Black Spot which he hears three times in succession and also that the the bad men are after his sea chest. Jim also finds out that the Captain was the first mate of the legendary pirate Old Captain Flint and he is the only one who knows the place where his treasure is buried. During his conversation, Jim is asked to be wary of the seafaring man with one leg. On asking what the Black Spot is, Jim is again confused with the Captains reply. He drowns himself in deep slumber after taking his medication. That evening, Jims father dies, adding to the pain and distress Jim was already going through. The Captain takes to heavy drinking, after regaining his strength despite the warnings. He starts singing and shouting in the house while the others are mourning their loss. This scarcely alarms Jim for he knows by now what to expect of the Captain. The gloomy air at the inn has more surprises in store. On a foggy afternoon, Jim notices a stranger, a blind beggar approaching the Inn. The man asks Jim which part of the country he is in. After finding out where he is, he politely requests Jim to lead him into the Inn. Once inside, his tone changes and he orders Jim to take him to the Captain and threatens to break Jims arm if he doesnt. The blind man instructs Jim on how he should be introduced and asks him to do it the very same way. On doing so, Jim sees the fear of death written on the Captains face. In Jims presence, a business deal takes place between the blind man and the Captain, where the blind man passes something from his hand to the Captains. After releasing Jims hand from his clutch, he leaves quickly without help. The Captain gets up quickly from his bed mumbling "Ten Oclock, six hours..." and unable to complete the sentence falls flat of the floor, never to get up again. Although Jim has never liked the Captain, he cries at his death.

