Chapter: HOW MY SEA ADVENTURE BEGAN


There was no return of the mutineers--not so much as another shot out of
the woods. They had "got their rations for that day," as the captain put
it, and we had the place to ourselves and a quiet time to overhaul the
wounded and get dinner. Squire and I cooked outside, in spite of the
danger, and even outside we could hardly tell what we were at, for the
horror of the loud groans that reached us from the doctor's patients.

Out of the eight men who had fallen in the action only three still
breathed--that one of the pirates who had been shot at the loophole,
Hunter, and Captain Smollett--and of these the first two were as good as
dead; the mutineer, indeed, died under the doctor's knife, and Hunter,
do what we could, never recovered consciousness in this world. He
lingered all day, breathing loudly like the old buccaneer at home in his
apoplectic fit; but the bones of his chest had been crushed by the blow
and his skull fractured in falling, and some time in the following
night, without sign or sound, he went to his Maker.

As for the captain, his wounds were grievous indeed, but not dangerous.
No organ was fatally injured. Anderson's ball--for it was Job that shot
him first--had broken his shoulder-blade and touched the lung, not
badly; the second had only torn and displaced some muscles in the calf.
He was sure to recover, the doctor said, but in the meantime, and for
weeks to come, he must not walk nor move his arm, nor so much as speak
when he could help it.

My own accidental cut across the knuckles was a flea-bite. Doctor
Livesey patched it up with plaster, and pulled my ears for me into the
bargain.

After dinner the squire and the doctor sat by the captain's side awhile
in consultation; and when they had talked to their heart's content, it
being then a little past noon, the doctor took up his hat and pistols,
girt on a cutlass, put the chart in his pocket, and with a musket over
his shoulder, crossed the palisade on the north side and set off briskly
through the trees.

Gray and I were sitting together at the far end of the blockhouse, to be
out of earshot of our officers, consulting, and Gray took his pipe out
of his mouth and fairly forgot to put it back again, so thunderstruck he
was at this occurrence.

"Why, in the name of Davy Jones," said he, "is Doctor Livesey mad?"

"Why, no," says I. "He's about the last of this crew for that, I take
it."

"Well, shipmate," said Gray, "mad he may not be, but if _he's_ not, mark
my words, _I_ am."

"I take it," replied I, "the doctor has his idea, and if I am right,
he's going now to see Ben Gunn."

I was right, as appeared later; but in the meantime, the house being
stifling hot, and the little patch of sand inside the palisade ablaze
with midday sun, I began to get another thought into my head which was
not by any means so right. What I began to do was to envy the doctor,
walking in the cool shadow of the woods, with the birds about him and
the pleasant smell of the pines, while I sat grilling, with my clothes
stuck to the hot resin, and so much blood about me, and so many poor
dead bodies lying all around, that I took a disgust of the place that
was almost as strong as fear.

All the time I was washing out the blockhouse, and then washing up the
things from dinner, this disgust and envy kept growing stronger and
stronger, till at last, being near a bread-bag, and no one then
observing me, I took the first step toward my escapade and filled both
pockets of my coat with biscuit.

I was a fool, if you like, and certainly I was going to do a foolish,
over-bold act, but I was determined to do it with all the precautions in
my power. These biscuits, should anything befall me, would keep me at
least from starving till far on in the next day.

The next thing I laid hold of was a brace of pistols, and as I already
had a powder-horn and bullets, I felt myself well supplied with arms.

As for the scheme I had in my head, it was not a bad one in itself. It
was to go down the sandy spit that divides the anchorage on the east
from the open sea, find the white rock I had observed last evening, and
ascertain whether it was there or not that Ben Gunn had hidden his
boat--a thing quite worth doing, as I still believe. But as I was
certain I should not be allowed to leave the inclosure, my only plan was
to take French leave and slip out when nobody was watching, and that was
so bad a way of doing it as made the thing itself wrong. But I was only
a boy and I had made my mind up.

Well, as things at last fell out, I found an admirable opportunity. The
squire and Gray were busy helping the captain with his bandages; the
coast was clear; I made a bolt for it over the stockade and into the
thickest of the trees, and before my absence was observed I was out of
cry of my companions.

This was my second folly, far worse than the first, as I left but two
sound men to guard the house; but, like the first, it was a help toward
saving all of us.

I took my way straight for the east coast of the island, for I was
determined to go down the seaside of the spit to avoid all chance of
observation from the anchorage. It was already late in the afternoon,
although still warm and sunny. As I continued to thread the tall woods I
could hear from far before me not only the continuous thunder of the
surf, but a certain tossing of foliage and grinding of boughs which
showed me the sea breeze set in higher than usual. Soon cool draughts of
air began to reach me, and a few steps farther I came forth into the
open borders of the grove and saw the sea lying blue and sunny to the
horizon and the surf tumbling and tossing its foam along the beach.

I have never seen the sea quiet round Treasure Island. The sun might
blaze overhead, the air be without a breath, the surface smooth and
blue, but still these great rollers would be running along all the
external coast, thundering and thundering by day and night, and I scarce
believe there is one spot in the island where a man would be out of
earshot of their noise.

I walked along beside the surf with great enjoyment, till, thinking I
was now got far enough to the south, I took the cover of some thick
bushes and crept warily up to the ridge of the spit.

Behind me was the sea; in front, the anchorage. The sea-breeze, as
though it had the sooner blown itself out by its unusual violence, was
already at an end; it had been succeeded by light, variable airs from
the south and southeast, carrying great banks of fog; and the anchorage,
under lee of Skeleton Island, lay still and leaden as when first we
entered it. The _Hispaniola_, in that unbroken mirror, was exactly
portrayed from the truck to the water-line, the Jolly Roger hanging from
her peak.

Alongside lay one of the gigs, Silver in the stern-sheets--him I could
always recognize--while a couple of men were leaning over the stern
bulwarks, one of them with a red cap--the very rogue that I had seen
some hours before stride-legs upon the palisade. Apparently they were
talking and laughing, though at that distance--upward of a mile--I could
of course hear no word of what was said.

All at once there began the most horrid, unearthly screaming, which at
first startled me badly, though I had soon remembered the voice of
Captain Flint, and even thought I could make out the bird by her bright
plumage as she sat perched upon her master's wrist.

Soon after the jolly-boat shoved off and pulled for shore, and the man
with the red cap and his comrade went below by the cabin companion.

Just about the same time the sun had gone down behind the Spy-glass, and
as the fog was collecting rapidly, it began to grow dark in earnest. I
saw I must lose no time if I were to find the boat that evening.

The white rock, visible enough above the brush, was still some eighth of
a mile farther down the spit, and it took me a goodish while to get up
with it, crawling, often on all-fours, among the scrub. Night had almost
come when I laid my hand on its rough sides. Right below it there was
an exceedingly small hollow of green turf, hidden by banks and a thick
underwood about knee-deep, that grew there very plentifully; and in the
center of the dell, sure enough, a little tent of goat-skins, like what
the gypsies carry about with them in England.

I dropped into the hollow, lifted the side of the tent, and there was
Ben Gunn's boat--homemade if ever anything was homemade--a rude,
lopsided framework of tough wood, and stretched upon that a covering of
goat-skin, with the hair inside. The thing was extremely small, even for
me, and I can hardly imagine that it could have floated with a
full-sized man. There was one thwart set as low as possible, a kind of
stretcher in the bows, and a double paddle for propulsion.

I had not then seen a coracle, such as the ancient Britons made, but I
have seen one since, and I can give you no fairer idea of Ben Gunn's
boat than by saying it was like the first and the worst coracle ever
made by man. But the great advantage of the coracle it certainly
possessed, for it was exceedingly light and portable.

Well, now that I had found the boat, you would have thought I had had
enough of truantry for once; but in the meantime I had taken another
notion, and become so obstinately fond of it that I would have carried
it out, I believe, in the teeth of Captain Smollett himself. This was to
slip out under cover of the night, cut the _Hispaniola_ adrift, and let
her go ashore where she fancied. I had quite made up my mind that the
mutineers, after their repulse of the morning, had nothing nearer their
hearts than to up anchor and away to sea; this, I thought, it would be a
fine thing to prevent, and now that I had seen how they left their
watchman unprovided with a boat, I thought it might be done with little
risk.

Down I sat to wait for darkness, and made a hearty meal of biscuit. It
was a night out of ten thousand for my purpose. The fog had now buried
all heaven. As the last rays of daylight dwindled and disappeared,
absolute blackness settled down on Treasure Island. And when, at last, I
shouldered the coracle, and groped my way stumblingly out of the hollow
where I had supped, there were but two points visible on the whole
anchorage.

One was the great fire on shore, by which the defeated pirates lay
carousing in the swamp. The other, a mere blur of light upon the
darkness, indicated the position of the anchored ship. She had swung
round to the ebb--her bow was now toward me--the only lights on board
were in the cabin; and what I saw was merely a reflection on the fog of
the strong rays that flowed from the stern window.

The ebb had already run some time, and I had to wade through a long belt
of swampy sand, where I sank several times above the ankle, before I
came to the edge of the retreating water, and wading a little way in,
with some strength and dexterity, set my coracle, keel downward, on the
surface.




THE EBB-TIDE RUNS


The coracle--as I had ample reason to know before I was done with
her--was a very safe boat for a person of my height and weight, both
buoyant and clever in a sea-way; but she was the most cross-grained,
lopsided craft to manage. Do as you pleased, she always made more leeway
than anything else, and turning round and round was the maneuver she was
best at. Even Ben Gunn himself has admitted that she was "queer to
handle till you knew her way."

Certainly I did not know her way. She turned in every direction but the
one I was bound to go; the most part of the time we were broadside on,
and I am very sure I never should have made the ship at all but for the
tide. By good fortune, paddle as I pleased, the tide was still sweeping
me down; and there lay the _Hispaniola_ right in the fairway, hardly to
be missed.

First she loomed before me like a blot of something yet blacker than
darkness, then her spars and hull began to take shape, and the next
moment, as it seemed (for the further I went the brisker grew the
current of the ebb), I was alongside of her hawser, and had laid hold.

The hawser was as taut as a bowstring and the current so strong she
pulled upon her anchor. All round the hull, in the blackness, the
rippling current bubbled and chattered like a little mountain stream.
One cut with my sea gully, and the _Hispaniola_ would go humming down
the tide.

So far so good; but it next occurred to my recollection that a taut
hawser, suddenly cut, is a thing as dangerous as a kicking horse. Ten to
one, if I were so foolhardy as to cut the _Hispaniola_ from her anchor,
I and the coracle would be knocked clean out of the water.

This brought me to a full stop, and if fortune had not again
particularly favored me, I should have had to abandon my design. But the
light airs which had begun blowing from the southeast and south had
hauled round after nightfall into the southwest. Just while I was
meditating, a puff came, caught the _Hispaniola_, and forced her up into
the current; and, to my great joy, I felt the hawser slacken in my
grasp, and the hand by which I held it dip for a second under water.

With that I made my mind up, took out my gully, opened it with my teeth,
and cut one strand after another, till the vessel swung only by two.
Then I lay quiet, waiting to sever these last when the strain should be
once more lightened by a breath of wind.

All this time I had heard the sound of loud voices from the cabin; but,
to say truth, my mind had been so entirely taken up with other thoughts
that I had scarcely given ear. Now, however, when I had nothing else to
do, I began to pay more heed.

One I recognized for the coxswain's, Israel Hands, that had been Flint's
gunner in former days. The other was, of course, my friend of the red
nightcap. Both men were plainly the worse of drink, and they were still
drinking; for, even while I was listening, one of them, with a drunken
cry, opened the stern window and threw out something, which I divined
to be an empty bottle. But they were not only tipsy; it was plain that
they were furiously angry. Oaths flew like hailstones, and every now and
then there came forth such an explosion as I thought was sure to end in
blows. But each time the quarrel passed off, and the voices grumbled
lower for a while, until the next crisis came, and, in its turn, passed
away without result.

On shore, I could see the glow of the great camp fire burning warmly
through the shore-side trees. Someone was singing a dull, old droning
sailor's song, with a droop and a quaver at the end of every verse, and
seemingly no end to it at all but the patience of the singer. I had
heard it on the voyage more than once, and remembered these words:

    "But one man of the crew alive,
    What put to sea with seventy-five."

And I thought it was a ditty rather too dolefully appropriate for a
company that had met such cruel losses in the morning. But, indeed, from
what I saw, all these buccaneers were as callous as the sea they sailed
on.

At last the breeze came; the schooner sidled and drew nearer in the
dark; I felt the hawser slacken once more, and with a good, tough
effort, cut the last fibers through.

The breeze had but little action on the coracle, and I was almost
instantly swept against the bows of the _Hispaniola_. At the same time
the schooner began to turn upon her heel, spinning slowly, end for end,
across the current.

I wrought like a fiend, for I expected every moment to be swamped; and
since I found I could not push the coracle directly off, I now shoved
straight astern. At length I was clear of my dangerous neighbor, and
just as I gave the last impulsion, my hands came across a light cord
that was trailing overboard across the stern bulwarks. Instantly I
grasped it.

Why I should have done so I can hardly say. It was at first mere
instinct, but once I had it in my hands and found it fast, curiosity
began to get the upper hand, and I determined I should have one look
through the cabin window.

I pulled in hand over hand on the cord, and, when I judged myself near
enough, rose at infinite risk to about half my height, and thus
commanded the roof and a slice of the interior of the cabin.

By this time the schooner and her little consort were gliding pretty
swiftly through the water; indeed, we had already fetched up level with
the camp fire. The ship was talking, as sailors say, loudly, treading
the innumerable ripples with an incessant weltering splash; and until I
got my eye above the window sill I could not comprehend why the watchmen
had taken no alarm. One glance, however, was sufficient; and it was only
one glance that I durst take from that unsteady skiff. It showed me
Hands and his companion locked together in deadly wrestle, each with a
hand upon the other's throat.

I dropped upon the thwart again, none too soon, for I was near
overboard. I could see nothing for the moment but these two furious,
encrimsoned faces, swaying together under the smoky lamp; and I shut my
eyes to let them grow once more familiar with the darkness.

The endless ballad had come to an end at last, and the whole diminished
company about the camp fire had broken into the chorus I had heard so
often:

    "Fifteen men on the dead man's chest--
      Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!
    Drink and the devil had done for the rest--
      Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!"

I was just thinking how busy drink and the devil were at that very
moment in the cabin of the _Hispaniola_, when I was surprised by a
sudden lurch of the coracle. At the same moment she yawed sharply and
seemed to change her course. The speed in the meantime had strangely
increased.

I opened my eyes at once. All around me were little ripples, combing
over with a sharp, bristling sound and slightly phosphorescent. The
_Hispaniola_ herself, a few yards in whose wake I was still being
whirled along, seemed to stagger in her course, and I saw her spars toss
a little against the blackness of the night; nay, as I looked longer, I
made sure she also was wheeling to the southward.

I glanced over my shoulder and my heart jumped against my ribs. There,
right behind me, was the glow of the camp fire. The current had turned
at right angles, sweeping round along with it the tall schooner and the
little dancing coracle; ever quickening, ever bubbling higher, ever
muttering louder, it went spinning through the narrows for the open sea.

Suddenly the schooner in front of me gave a violent yaw, turning,
perhaps, through twenty degrees; and almost at the same moment one shout
followed another from on board. I could hear feet pounding on the
companion ladder, and I knew that the two drunkards had at last been
interrupted in their quarrel and awakened to a sense of their disaster.

I lay down flat in the bottom of that wretched skiff and devoutly
recommended my spirit to its Maker. At the end of the straits I made
sure we must fall into some bar of raging breakers, where all my
troubles would be ended speedily; and though I could perhaps bear to
die, I could not bear to look upon my fate as it approached.

So I must have lain for hours, continually beaten to and fro upon the
billows, now and again wetted with flying sprays, and never ceasing to
expect death at the next plunge. Gradually weariness grew upon me; a
numbness, an occasional stupor, fell upon my mind even in the midst of
my terrors, until sleep at last intervened, and in my sea-tossed coracle
I lay and dreamed of home and the old "Admiral Benbow."




THE CRUISE OF THE CORACLE


It was broad day when I awoke and found myself tossing at the southwest
end of Treasure Island. The sun was up, but was still hid from me behind
the great bulk of the Spy-glass, which on this side descended almost to
the sea in formidable cliffs.

Haulbowline Head and Mizzen-mast Hill were at my elbow, the hill bare
and dark, the head bound with cliffs forty or fifty feet high and
fringed with great masses of fallen rock. I was scarce a quarter of a
mile to seaward, and it was my first thought to paddle in and land.

That notion was soon given over. Among the fallen rocks the breakers
spouted and bellowed; loud reverberations, heavy sprays flying and
falling, succeeded one another from second to second; and I saw myself,
if I ventured nearer, dashed to death upon the rough shore or spending
my strength in vain to scale the beetling crags.

Nor was that all, for crawling together on flat tables of rock, or
letting themselves drop into the sea with loud reports, I beheld huge
slimy monsters--soft snails, as it were, of incredible bigness--two or
three score of them together, making the rocks to echo with their
barkings.

I have understood since that they were sea lions, and entirely harmless.
But the look of them, added to the difficulty of the shore and the high
running of the surf, was more than enough to disgust me of that
landing-place. I felt willing rather to starve at sea than to confront
such perils.

In the meantime I had a better chance, as I supposed, before me. North
of Haulbowline Head the land runs in a long way, leaving, at low tide, a
long stretch of yellow sand. To the north of that, again, there comes
another cape--Cape of the Woods, as it was marked upon the chart--buried
in tall green pines, which descended to the margin of the sea.

I remembered what Silver had said about the current that sets northward
along the whole west coast of Treasure Island; and seeing from my
position that I was already under its influence, I preferred to leave
Haulbowline Head behind me, and reserve my strength for an attempt to
land upon the kindlier-looking Cape of the Woods.

There was a great, smooth swell upon the sea. The wind blowing steady
and gentle from the south, there was no contrariety between that and the
current, and the billows rose and fell unbroken.

Had it been otherwise, I must long ago have perished; but as it was, it
is surprising how easily and securely my little and light boat could
ride. Often, as I still lay at the bottom, and kept no more than an eye
above the gunwale, I would see a big blue summit heaving close above me;
yet the coracle would but bounce a little, dance as if on springs, and
subside on the other side into the trough as lightly as a bird.

I began after a little to grow very bold, and sat up to try my skill at
paddling. But even a small change in the disposition of the weight will
produce violent changes in the behavior of a coracle. And I had hardly
moved before the boat, giving up at once her gentle, dancing movement,
ran straight down a slope of water so steep that it made me giddy, and
struck her nose, with a spout of spray, deep into the side of the next
wave.

I was drenched and terrified, and fell instantly back into my old
position, whereupon the coracle seemed to find her head again, and led
me softly as before among the billows. It was plain she was not to be
interfered with, and at that rate, since I could in no way influence her
course, what hope had I left of reaching land?

I began to be horribly frightened, but I kept my head, for all that.
First, moving with all care, I gradually bailed out the coracle with my
sea cap; then getting my eye once more above the gunwale, I set myself
to study how it was she managed to slip so quietly through the rollers.

I found each wave, instead of the big, smooth, glossy mountain it looks
from shore, or from a vessel's deck, was for all the world like any
range of hills on the dry land, full of peaks and smooth places and
valleys. The coracle, left to herself, turning from side to side,
threaded, so to speak, her way through these lower parts, and avoided
the steep slopes and higher toppling summits of the wave.

"Well, now," thought I to myself, "it is plain I must lie where I am,
and not disturb the balance; but it is plain, also, that I can put the
paddle over the side, and from time to time, in smooth places, give her
a shove or two towards land." No sooner thought upon than done. There I
lay on my elbows, in the most trying attitude, and every now and again
gave a weak stroke or two to turn her head to shore.

It was very tiring and slow work, yet I did visibly gain ground; and, as
we drew near the Cape of the Woods, though I saw I must infallibly miss
that point, I had still made some hundred yards of easting. I was,
indeed, close in. I could see the cool, green tree-tops swaying together
in the breeze, and I felt sure I should make the next promontory without
fail.

It was high time, for I now began to be tortured with thirst. The glow
of the sun from above, its thousand-fold reflection from the waves, the
sea water that fell and dried upon me, caking my very lips with salt,
combined to make my throat burn and my brain ache. The sight of the
trees so near at hand had almost made me sick with longing; but the
current had soon carried me past the point; and, as the next reach of
sea opened out, I beheld a sight that changed the nature of my thoughts.

Right in front of me, not half a mile away, I beheld the _Hispaniola_
under sail. I made sure, of course, that I should be taken, but I was so
distressed for want of water, that I scarce knew whether to be glad or
sorry at the thought; and, long before I had come to a conclusion,
surprise had taken possession of my mind, and I could do nothing but
stare and wonder.

The _Hispaniola_ was under her mainsail and two jibs, and the beautiful
white canvas shone in the sun like snow or silver. When I first sighted
her, all her sails were drawing, she was laying a course about
northwest, and I presumed the men on board were going round the island
on their way back to the anchorage. Presently she began to fetch more
and more to the westward, so that I thought they had sighted me and were
going about in chase. At last, however, she fell right into the wind's
eye, was taken dead aback, and stood there awhile helpless, with her
sails shivering.

"Clumsy fellows," said I, "they must still be drunk as owls." And I
thought how Captain Smollett would have set them skipping.

Meanwhile the schooner gradually fell off, and filled again upon another
tack, sailed swiftly for a minute or so, and brought up once more dead
in the wind's eye. Again and again was this repeated. To and fro, up and
down, north, south, east, and west, the _Hispaniola_ sailed by swoops
and dashes, and at each repetition ended as she had begun, with idly
flapping canvas. It became plain to me that nobody was steering. And, if
so, where were the men? Either they were dead drunk, or had deserted
her, I thought, and perhaps if I could get on board, I might return the
vessel to her captain.

The current was bearing coracle and schooner southward at an equal rate.
As for the latter's sailing, it was so wild and intermittent, and she
hung each time so long in irons, that she certainly gained nothing, if
she did not even lose. If I only dared to sit up and paddle, I made sure
that I could overhaul her. The scheme had an air of adventure that
inspired me, and the thought of the water breaker beside the
fore companion doubled my growing courage.

Up I got, was welcomed almost instantly by another cloud of spray, but
this time stuck to my purpose and set myself with all my strength and
caution to paddle after the unsteered _Hispaniola_. Once I shipped a sea
so heavy that I had to stop and bail, with my heart fluttering like a
bird, but gradually I got into the way of the thing and guided my
coracle among the waves, with only now and then a blow upon her bows
and a dash of foam in my face.

I was now gaining rapidly on the schooner. I could see the brass glisten
on the tiller as it banged about, and still no soul appeared upon her
decks. I could not choose but suppose she was deserted. If not, the men
were lying drunk below, where I might batten them down, perhaps, and do
what I chose with the ship.

For some time she had been doing the worst thing possible for
me--standing still. She headed nearly due south, yawing, of course, all
the time. Each time she fell off her sails partly filled, and these
brought her, in a moment, right to the wind again. I have said this was
the worst thing possible for me; for, helpless as she looked in this
situation, with the canvas crackling like cannon, and the blocks
trundling and banging on the deck, she still continued to run away from
me, not only with the speed of the current, but by the whole amount of
her leeway, which was naturally great.

But now, at last, I had my chance. The breeze fell, for some seconds,
very low, and the current gradually turning her, the _Hispaniola_
revolved slowly round her center and at last presented me her stern,
with the cabin window still gaping open and the lamp over the table
still burning on into the day. The mainsail hung drooped like a banner.
She was stock-still but for the current.

For the last little while I had even lost, but now, redoubling my
efforts, I began once more to overhaul the chase.

I was not a hundred yards from her when the wind came again in a clap;
she filled on the port tack and was off again, stooping and skimming
like a swallow.

My first impulse was one of despair, but my second was towards joy.
Round she came, till she was broadside on to me--round still till she
had covered a half, and then two-thirds, and then three-quarters of the
distance that separated us. I could see the waves boiling white under
her forefoot. Immensely tall she looked to me from my low station in the
coracle.

And then, of a sudden, I began to comprehend. I had scarce time to
think--scarce time to act and save myself. I was on the summit of one
swell when the schooner came stooping over the next. The bowsprit was
over my head. I sprang to my feet and leaped, stamping the coracle under
water. With one hand I caught the jib-boom, while my foot was lodged
between the stay and the brace, and as I still clung there panting, a
dull blow told me that the schooner had charged down upon and struck the
coracle and that I was left without retreat on the _Hispaniola_.




I STRIKE THE JOLLY ROGER


I had scarce gained a position on the bowsprit when the flying jib
flapped and filled upon the other tack with a report like a gun. The
schooner trembled to her keel under the reverse, but next moment, the
other sails still drawing, the jib flapped back again and hung idle.

This had nearly tossed me off into the sea, and now I lost no time,
crawled back along the bowsprit and tumbled headforemost on the deck.

I was on the lee side of the forecastle, and the mainsail, which was
still drawing, concealed from me a certain portion of the after-deck.
Not a soul was to be seen. The planks, which had not been swabbed since
the mutiny, bore the print of many feet; and an empty bottle, broken by
the neck, tumbled to and fro like a live thing in the scuppers.

Suddenly the _Hispaniola_ came right into the wind. The jibs behind me
cracked aloud; the rudder slammed to; the whole ship gave a sickening
heave and shudder; and at the same moment the main-boom swung inboard,
the sheet groaning in the blocks, and showed me the lee after-deck.

There were the two watchmen, sure enough; Red-cap on his back, as stiff
as a handspike, with his arms stretched out like those of a crucifix,
and his teeth showing through his open lips; Israel Hands propped
against the bulwarks, his chin on his chest, his hands lying open before
him on the deck, his face as white, under its tan, as a tallow candle.

For a while the ship kept bucking and sidling like a vicious horse, the
sails filling, now on one tack, now on another, and the boom swinging to
and fro till the mast groaned aloud under the strain. Now and again,
too, there would come a cloud of light sprays over the bulwark, and a
heavy blow of the ship's bows against the swell--so much heavier weather
was made of it by this great rigged ship than by my homemade, lopsided
coracle, now gone to the bottom of the sea.

At every jump of the schooner, Red-cap slipped to and fro; but--what was
ghastly to behold--neither his attitude nor his fixed teeth-disclosing
grin was any way disturbed by this rough usage. At every jump, too,
Hands appeared still more to sink into himself and settle down upon the
deck, his feet sliding ever the farther out, and the whole body canting
toward the stern, so that his face became, little by little, hid from
me; and at last I could see nothing beyond his ear and the frayed
ringlet of one whisker.

At the same time I observed, around both of them, splashes of dark blood
upon the planks, and began to feel sure that they had killed each other
in their drunken wrath.

While I was thus looking and wondering, in a calm moment when the ship
was still, Israel Hands turned partly round, and with a low moan,
writhed himself back to the position in which I had seen him first. The
moan, which told of pain and deadly weakness, and the way in which his
jaw hung open, went right to my heart. But when I remembered the talk I
had overheard from the apple barrel, all pity left me.

I walked aft until I reached the mainmast.

"Come aboard, Mr. Hands," I said, ironically.

He rolled his eyes round heavily, but he was too far gone to express
surprise. All he could do was to utter one word, "Brandy."

It occurred to me there was no time to lose, and dodging the boom as it
once more lurched across the deck, I slipped aft and down the
companion-stairs into the cabin.

It was such a scene of confusion as you can hardly fancy. All the
lock-fast places had been broken open in quest of the chart. The floor
was thick with mud, where the ruffians had sat down to drink or consult
after wading in the marshes round their camp. The bulkheads, all painted
in clear white, and beaded round with gilt, bore a pattern of dirty
hands. Dozens of empty bottles clinked together in corners to the
rolling of the ship. One of the doctor's medical books lay open on the
table, half of the leaves gutted out, I suppose, for pipe-lights. In the
midst of all this the lamp still cast a smoky glow, obscure and brown as
umber.

I went into the cellar; all the barrels were gone, and of the bottles a
most surprising number had been drunk out and thrown away. Certainly,
since the mutiny began, not a man of them could ever have been sober.

Foraging about I found a bottle with some brandy left, for Hands; and
for myself I routed out some biscuit, some pickled fruits, a great bunch
of raisins, and a piece of cheese. With these I came on deck, put down
my own stock behind the rudder-head, and well out of the coxswain's
reach, went forward to the water-breaker, and had a good, deep drink of
water, and then, and not until then, gave Hands the brandy.

He must have drunk a gill before he took the bottle from his mouth.

"Ay," said he, "by thunder, but I wanted some o' that!"

I had sat down already in my own corner and begun to eat.

"Much hurt?" I asked him.

He grunted, or, rather, I might say, he barked.

"If that doctor was aboard," he said, "I'd be right enough in a couple
of turns; but I don't have no manner of luck, you see, and that's what's
the matter with me. As for that swab, he's good and dead, he is," he
added, indicating the man with the red cap. "He warn't no seaman,
anyhow. And where mought you have come from?"

"Well," said I, "I've come aboard to take possession of this ship, Mr.
Hands, and you'll please regard me as your captain until further
notice."

He looked at me sourly enough, but said nothing. Some of the color had
come back into his cheeks, though he still looked very sick and still
continued to slip out and settle down as the ship banged about.

"By the by," I continued, "I can't have these colors, Mr. Hands; and by
your leave I'll strike 'em. Better none than these."

And, again dodging the boom, I ran to the color lines, hauled down their
cursed black flag, and chucked it overboard.

"God save the king!" said I, waving my cap; "and there's an end to
Captain Silver."

He watched me keenly and slyly, his chin all the while on his breast.

"I reckon," he said at last--"I reckon, Cap'n Hawkins, you'll kind o'
want to get ashore, now. S'pose we talks."

"Why, yes," says I, "with all my heart, Mr. Hands. Say on." And I went
back to my meal with a good appetite.

"This man," he began, nodding feebly at the corpse--"O'Brien were his
name--a rank Irelander--this man and me got the canvas on her, meaning
for to sail her back. Well, _he's_ dead now, he is--as dead as bilge;
and who's to sail this ship, I don't see. Without I give you a hint, you
ain't that man, as far's I can tell. Now, look here, you gives me food
and drink, and a old scarf or ankercher to tie my wound up, you do; and
I'll tell you how to sail her; and that's about square all round, I take
it."

"I'll tell you one thing," says I; "I'm not going back to Captain Kidd's
anchorage. I mean to get into North Inlet, and beach her quietly there."

"To be sure you did," he cried. "Why, I ain't sich an infernal lubber,
after all. I can see, can't I? I've tried my fling, I have, and I've
lost, and it's you has the wind of me. North Inlet? Why, I haven't no
ch'ice, not I. I'd help you sail her up to Execution Dock, by thunder!
so I would."

Well, as it seemed to me, there was some sense in this. We struck our
bargain on the spot. In three minutes I had the _Hispaniola_ sailing
easily before the wind along the coast of Treasure Island, with good
hopes of turning the northern point ere noon, and beating down again as
far as North Inlet before high water, when we might beach her safely,
and wait till the subsiding tide permitted us to land.

Then I lashed the tiller and went below to my own chest, where I got a
soft silk handkerchief of my mother's. With this, and with my aid, Hands
bound up the great bleeding stab he had received in the thigh, and after
he had eaten a little and had a swallow or two more of the brandy, he
began to pick up visibly, sat straighter up, spoke louder and clearer,
and looked in every way another man.

The breeze served us admirably. We skimmed before it like a bird, the
coast of the island flashing by, and the view changing every minute.
Soon we were past the high lands and bowling beside low, sandy country,
sparsely dotted with dwarf pines, and soon we were beyond that again,
and had turned the corner of the rocky hill that ends the island on the
north.

I was greatly elated with my new command, and pleased with the bright,
sunshiny weather and these different prospects of the coast. I had now
plenty of water and good things to eat, and my conscience, which had
smitten me hard for my desertion, was quieted by the great conquest I
had made. I should, I think, have had nothing left me to desire but for
the eyes of the coxswain as they followed me derisively about the deck,
and the odd smile that appeared continually on his face. It was a smile
that had in it something both of pain and weakness--a haggard, old man's
smile; but there was, besides that, a grain of derision, a shadow of
treachery, in his expression as he craftily watched, and watched, and
watched me at my work.




ISRAEL HANDS


The wind, serving us to a desire, now hauled into the west. We could run
so much easier from the northeast corner of the island to the mouth of
the North Inlet. Only, as we had no power to anchor, and dared not beach
her until the tide had flowed a good deal farther, time hung on our
hands. The coxswain told me how to lay the ship to; after a good many
trials I succeeded, and we both sat in silence over another meal.

"Cap'n," said he, at length, with that same uncomfortable smile, "here's
my old shipmate, O'Brien; s'pose you was to heave him overboard. I ain't
partic'lar, as a rule, and I don't take no blame for settling his hash;
but I don't reckon him ornamental, now, do you?"

"I'm not strong enough, and I don't like the job; and there he lies, for
me," said I.

"This here's an unlucky ship--the _Hispaniola_, Jim," he went on,
blinking. "There's a power of men been killed in this _Hispaniola_--a
sight o' poor seamen dead and gone since you and me took ship to
Bristol. I never seen such dirty luck, not I. There was this here
O'Brien, now--he's dead, ain't he? Well, now, I'm no scholar, and you're
a lad as can read and figure; and, to put it straight, do you take it as
a dead man is dead for good, or do he come alive again?"

"You can kill the body, Mr. Hands, but not the spirit; you must know
that already," I replied. "O'Brien, there, is in another world, and may
be watching us."

"Ah!" says he. "Well, that's unfort'nate--appears as if killing parties
was a waste of time. Howsomever, sperrits don't reckon for much, by what
I've seen. I'll chance it with the sperrits, Jim. And now you've spoke
up free, and I'll take it kind if you'd step down into that there cabin
and get me a--well, a--shiver my timbers! I can't hit the name on't.
Well, you get me a bottle of wine, Jim--this here brandy's too strong
for my head."

Now the coxswain's hesitation seemed to be unnatural; and as for the
notion of his preferring wine to brandy, I entirely disbelieved it. The
whole story was a pretext. He wanted me to leave the deck--so much was
plain, but with what purpose I could in no way imagine. His eyes never
met mine; they kept wandering to and fro, up and down, now with a look
to the sky, now with a flitting glance upon the dead O'Brien. All the
time he kept smiling and putting his tongue out in the most guilty,
embarrassed manner, so that a child could have told that he was bent on
some deception. I was prompt with my answer, however, for I saw where my
advantage lay, and that with a fellow so densely stupid I could easily
conceal my suspicions to the end.

"Some wine?" I said. "Far better. Will you have white or red?"

"Well, I reckon it's about the blessed same to me, shipmate," he
replied; "so it's strong, and plenty of it, what's the odds?"

"All right," I answered. "I'll bring you port, Mr. Hands. But I'll have
to dig for it."

With that I scuttled down the companion with all the noise I could,
slipped off my shoes, ran quietly along the sparred gallery, mounted the
forecastle ladder and popped my head out of the fore companion. I knew
he would not expect to see me there, yet I took every precaution
possible, and certainly the worst of my suspicions proved too true.

He had risen from his position to his hands and knees, and though his
leg obviously hurt him pretty sharply when he moved--for I could hear
him stifle a groan--yet it was at a good, rattling rate that he trailed
himself across the deck. In half a minute he had reached the port
scuppers, and picked out of a coil of rope a long knife, or rather a
short dirk, discolored 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
afterward--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 labor 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
favorite 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 year," 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 head 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 catspaw, 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 o' 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 maneuvers 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 halfway toward 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 bull's.
At the same instant he threw himself forward and I leaped sideways
toward the bows. As I did so I let go of the tiller, which sprung 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 mainmast
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 mainmast, 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, 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 crosstrees.

[Illustration: _Quick as thought, I sprang into the mizzen shrouds_
(Page 193)]

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 workings 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 walk, 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.




"PIECES OF EIGHT"


Owing to the cant of the vessel, the masts hung far out over the water,
and from my perch on the crosstrees 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 crosstree 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 horrid, ungainly sort of puppet; life-size, indeed, but how
different from life's color 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 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 mainsail was a harder matter. Of
course, when the schooner canted over, the boom had swung outboard, 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 downhaul,
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 mainsail 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 clinching 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 blockhouse 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 eye 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 toward 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 color 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 smoldering.

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 moon-shine; the rest, and the blockhouse
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,
contrasting 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, toward the corner of the house. As I drew nearer, my
heart was suddenly and greatly lightened. It was 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.

[Illustration]




PART VI

CAPTAIN SILVER

 Jim opens Chapter 22 by describing the casualties of the recent action. Five of the pirates are dead, a sixth so badly wounded that he dies despite Dr. Livesey's efforts to save him, and Hunter -- with a fractured skull and broken ribs -- will die that night without regaining consciousness. Captain Smollett is not fatally injured, but his wounds will keep him inactive for weeks. In the afternoon the doctor, heavily armed, sets out alone, and Jim tells Gray that he seems to be going to find Ben Gunn. Jim, cleaning the hot, bloody blockhouse, becomes disgusted and restless. Knowing he would never be given permission to go, he arms himself with two pistols and ammunition and leaves the stockade without asking. Avoiding the anchorage and the pirates' camp, he walks until he can see the Hispaniola, with her pirates' flag raised, still lying at anchor, and one of the gigs alongside. In the gig is Silver, talking with a couple of his men on shipboard. As the sun sets, Jim looks for and finds the rock Ben Gunn has mentioned, and near it Gunn's awkward boat, homemade of goatskins stretched over a wooden frame, with a double paddle to propel it. Jim has seen Silver head for shore in the gig and, knowing the ship and the men on it now have no boat, he makes up his mind to cut the Hispaniola adrift. After dark, in a fog that allows him to see only the pirates' campfire ashore and the dim light from the ship's cabin, Jim takes the goatskin boat to the water and sets it down. Trying to navigate the tiny, lop-sided vessel is frustrating , but the quickly ebbing tide carries Jim to the ship, where he grabs the hawser, feeling it taut as the tide pulls the Hispaniola upon its anchor. When a puff of wind moves the vessel slightly, causing the hawser to slacken, he cuts all but two strands of the rope and waits for another breeze to slacken it again. And, as he waits, he hears the voices of two men in the cabin -- Israel Hands and one other, who had been in the fight earlier that day. They are drunk and quarrelling loudly. Jim cuts through the rest of the hawser and the schooner begins to turn slowly, threatening to overturn his boat. Furiously, he paddles alongside to the ship's stern, and then on impulse he grabs a line trailing from the ship and pulls his boat closer, until at last he can stand and look partially into the cabin through the stern window. There he sees Hands and the other man wrestling drunkenly but powerfully, each attempting to strangle the other. As he watches, the motion of the ship changes, and he perceives that it has been caught in the swiftly ebbing tide and is spinning toward the open sea. In a moment the two men aboard the Hispaniola discover, belatedly, the dangerous situation they are in and run on deck. Jim's boat, caught in the wake, is drawn along with the ship, and Jim is sure he'll be killed when the ship eventually hits the powerful breakers at the end of the narrows. He is powerless to do anything. He lies down in the boat and, despite his fear, drifts into sleep. In Chapter 24 Jim awakens after daylight and sees that he is floating in the little boat a quarter mile west off the southwestern end of Treasure Island, upon whose rocks and cliffs waves are breaking violently. He knows he'll be unable to land there; moreover, he sees "monsters" lying on rocks and dropping into the sea -- sea lions, he will later learn. Allowing the current to carry him northward along the shore -- his attempts to paddle nearly capsize the boat -- he finally discovers that he can slowly guide his "coracle" closer to shore, and he feels that soon he'll be able to land. But, rounding a bend, he sees the Hispaniola a short distance away and is sure he'll be seen and captured. The ship is under sail but behaving strangely, moving back and forth in the current but getting nowhere, and Jim begins to wonder if the two men aboard are still drunk. Eventually he paddles toward the ship, which he now guesses may be deserted. But as he approaches it he realizes that he is in great danger, for now the schooner moves toward him, bow first. As a wave lifts him in his boat, he grabs the boom of the ship's jib and hauls himself desperately up. A moment later the ship strikes and crushes the boat he has just left. Hanging from the jib, which is swinging wildly, Jim catches the ship's bowsprit, crawls along it, and then falls onto the deck . Recovering, he sees no one at first, but then, with a swing of the mainsail, he sights Hands and the other man lying on the deck. The second man is obviously dead, sliding around as the ship bucks and jumps. Both men are surrounded with bloodstains, and Jim thinks they are both dead, but then Hands comes to himself, sees Jim, and mutters, "Brandy." Jim gets brandy and some food for himself from the cabin, which has been plundered and wrecked. Hands is a little revived, and Jim, telling the erstwhile coxswain that he, Jim, is now in command, runs the pirate flag down and throws it overboard. Hands, wounded in the thigh, sees that he has no choice but to help Jim sail the ship to the North Inlet, for neither of them can do so on his own and Jim will not sail for the anchorage near which Silver is camped. They agree on this arrangement and set off. Jim is quite pleased with himself for all he has accomplished, but he notes that Hands is watching him strangely. Chapter 26 begins as Jim and Hands, unable to anchor the ship, wait for the tide to come in far enough so they can safely beach her. Hands tries to get Jim to toss the dead sailor, O'Brien, overboard, but Jim says he is not strong enough. Then, after a short discussion on the unluckiness of the ship and the nature of death, Hands asks Jim to get him some wine from the cabin. He obviously wants Jim out of the way, so Jim goes below, then quickly sneaks back to where he can see Hands, injured but not as badly as he has pretended, crawl across the deck and retrieve a bloody knife from a coil of rope, hiding it in his jacket and then going back to where Jim left him. Jim reflects that Hands certainly means to kill him, but that he will probably spare him until the ship can be beached, for he will need Jim's help to navigate it. Jim comes back with the wine, and Hands, acting very weak, asks him to cut a quid of tobacco, since he -- Hands -- has no knife. He says he is dying. Jim advises him to say some prayers, but Hands reckons this is nonsense. The tide is right, then, and they take the ship to the northern anchorage to beach it, seeing as they do so the wreck of another, abandoned, ship. Struggling to maneuver the Hispaniola into place at Hands' direction, Jim is distracted until, suddenly, he sees the coxswain moving toward him, knife in hand. Hands lunges and Jim lets go of the tiller to jump aside. The tiller, released, hits Hands in the chest. Jim pulls out one of his pistols and aims, but the weapon has been fouled with water and will not fire. Dodging and weaving, the two feint at each other. Then the ship runs aground and tips to the side, the deck at a sharp angle and the masts leaning out over the water. Both Jim and Hands fall over, but Jim gets to his feet and climbs the ropes to the mizzenmast, narrowly avoiding the knife. Now, seated on the mast's crosstrees, he primes and reloads both pistols, while Hands struggles slowly toward him, dragging his injured leg. Hands, however, seems to reflect that he is in a bad position, and he offers to surrender -- but, even as he is speaking, he throws the knife suddenly, pinning Jim by the flesh of his shoulder to the mast. Hurt and surprised, Jim fires both pistols and drops them, and Hands falls dying into the water. Seeing Hands' body lying under the shallow water of the bay , Jim tears free from the knife, returns to deck to tend his wound, which is not deep, and manages to heave O'Brien's body overboard to lie beside that of Hands. Then, as the sun sets, the tide turns, and a wind begins to rise, Jim does what he can to bring down the sails so that the ship will not be damaged by being blown about. When this is done, he drops down from the cut hawser into waist-deep water and wades ashore. Feeling proud of having recaptured the ship, he starts in the direction of the stockade, crosses a stream, and, seeing a fire in the distance, supposes it is Ben Gunn's camp. The moon comes up and he approaches the stockade, where he sees the embers of another fire dying in the yard. This puzzles him, and he climbs over the palisade and crawls toward the blockhouse cautiously. Then he hears from inside the snores of sleeping men and, reassured, enters the building, thinking to lie down in his own place and surprise his friends when they awaken. But he manages to step on one sleeper, and in the ensuing confusion , he realizes that he has stumbled into the pirates' stronghold; they have somehow taken it over while he has been gone. He turns to run but is held fast, captured by the pirates.

