Chapter: THE FIRST BLOW


I was so pleased at having given the slip to Long John, that I began to
enjoy myself and look around me with some interest on the strange land
that I was in. I had crossed a marshy tract full of willows, bulrushes,
and odd, outlandish, swampy trees; and had now come out upon the skirts
of an open piece of undulating, sandy country, about a mile long, dotted
with a few pines, and a great number of contorted trees, not unlike the
oak in growth, but pale in the foliage, like willows. On the far side of
the open stood one of the hills, with two quaint, craggy peaks, shining
vividly in the sun.

I now felt for the first time the joy of exploration. The isle was
uninhabited; my shipmates I had left behind, and nothing lived in front
of me but dumb brutes and fowls. I turned hither and thither among the
trees. Here and there were flowering plants, unknown to me; here and
there I saw snakes, and one raised his head from a ledge of rock and
hissed at me with a noise not unlike the spinning of a top. Little did I
suppose that he was a deadly enemy, and that the noise was the famous
rattle.

Then I came to a long thicket of these oak-like trees--live, or
evergreen, oaks, I heard afterward they should be called--which grew low
along the sand like brambles, the boughs curiously twisted, the foliage
compact, like thatch. The thicket stretched down from the top of one of
the sandy knolls, spreading and growing taller as it went, until it
reached the margin of the broad, reedy fen, through which the nearest of
the little rivers soaked its way into the anchorage. The marsh was
steaming in the strong sun, and the outline of the Spy-glass trembled
through the haze.

All at once there began to go a sort of bustle among the bulrushes; a
wild duck flew up with a quack, another followed, and soon over the
whole surface of the marsh a great cloud of birds hung screaming and
circling in the air. I judged at once that some of my shipmates must be
drawing near along the borders of the fen. Nor was I deceived, for soon
I heard the very distant and low tones of a human voice, which, as I
continued to give ear, grew steadily louder and nearer.

This put me in great fear, and I crawled under cover of the nearest
live-oak, and squatted there, hearkening, as silent as a mouse.

Another voice answered; and then the first voice, which I now recognized
to be Silver's, once more took up the story, and ran on for a long while
in a stream, only now and again interrupted by the other. By the sound
they must have been talking earnestly, and almost fiercely, but no
distinct word came to my hearing.

At last the speakers seemed to have paused, and perhaps to have sat
down, for not only did they cease to draw any nearer, but the birds
themselves began to grow more quiet, and to settle again to their places
in the swamp.

And now I began to feel that I was neglecting my business; that since I
had been so foolhardy as to come ashore with these desperadoes, the
least I could do was to overhear them at their councils, and that my
plain and obvious duty was to draw as close as I could manage, under
the favorable ambush of the crouching trees.

I could tell the direction of the speakers pretty exactly, not only by
the sound of their voices, but by the behavior of the few birds that
still hung in alarm above the heads of the intruders.

Crawling on all-fours, I made steadily but slowly towards them, till at
last, raising my head to an aperture among the leaves, I could see clear
down into a little green dell beside the marsh, and closely set about
with trees, where Long John Silver and another of the crew stood face to
face in conversation.

The sun beat full upon them. Silver had thrown his hat beside him on the
ground, and his great, smooth, blonde face, all shining with heat, was
lifted to the other man's in a kind of appeal.

"Mate," he was saying, "it's because I thinks gold dust of you--gold
dust, and you may lay to that! If I hadn't took to you like pitch, do
you think I'd have been here a-warning of you? All's up--you can't make
nor mend; it's to save your neck that I'm a-speaking, and if one of the
wild 'uns knew it, where 'ud I be, Tom--now tell me, where 'ud I be?"

"Silver," said the other man--and I observed he was not only red in the
face, but spoke as hoarse as a crow, and his voice shook, too, like a
taut rope--"Silver," says he, "you're old, and you're honest, or has the
name for it; and you've money, too, which lots of poor sailors hasn't;
and you're brave, or I'm mistook. And will you tell me you'll let
yourself be led away with that kind of a mess of swabs? Not you! As sure
as God sees me, I'd sooner lose my hand. If I turn agin my dooty--"

And then all of a sudden he was interrupted by a noise. I had found one
of the honest hands--well, here, at that same moment, came news of
another. Far away out in the marsh there arose, all of a sudden, a sound
like the cry of anger, then another on the back of it, and then one
horrid, long-drawn scream. 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 whir; 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 poor 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 Alan,
have you? Kill me, too, if you can. But I defies you."

And with that this brave fellow turned his back directly on the cook and
set off walking for the beach. But he was not destined to go far. With a
cry John seized the branch of a tree, whipped the crutch out of his
armpit, and sent that uncouth missile hurling through the air. It struck
poor Tom, point foremost, and with stunning violence, right between the
shoulders in the middle of his back. His hands flew up, he gave a sort
of gasp and fell.

Whether he was injured much or little, none could ever tell. Like
enough, to judge from the sound, his back was broken on the spot. But he
had no time given him to recover. Silver, agile as a monkey, even
without leg or crutch, was on the top of him next moment, and had twice
buried his knife up to the hilt in that defenseless body. From my place
of ambush I could hear him pant aloud as he struck the blows.

I do not know what it rightly is to faint, but I do know that for the
next little while the whole world swam away from before me in a whirling
mist; Silver and the birds and the tall Spy-glass hilltop going round
and round and topsy-turvy before my eyes, and all manner of bells
ringing, and distant voices shouting in my ear.

When I came again to myself the monster had pulled himself together, his
crutch under his arm, his hat upon his head. Just before him Tom lay
motionless upon the sward; but the murderer minded him not a whit,
cleansing his blood-stained knife the while upon a whisp of grass.
Everything else was unchanged, the sun still shining mercilessly upon
the steaming marsh and the tall pinnacle of the mountain, and I could
scarce persuade myself that murder had actually been done and a human
life cruelly cut short a moment since, before my eyes.

But now John put his hand into his pocket, brought out a whistle, and
blew upon it several modulated blasts, that rang far across the heated
air. I could not tell, of course, the meaning of the signal, but it
instantly awoke my fears. More men would be coming. I might be
discovered. They had already slain two of the honest people; after Tom
and Alan, might not I come next?

Instantly I began to extricate myself and crawl back again, with what
speed and silence I could manage, to the more open portion of the wood.
As I did so I could hear hails coming and going between the old
buccaneer and his comrades, and this sound of danger lent me wings. As
soon as I was clear of the thicket, I ran as I never ran before, scarce
minding the direction of my flight, so long as it led me from the
murderers, and as I ran, fear grew and grew upon me, until it turned
into a kind of frenzy.

Indeed, could anyone be more entirely lost than I? When the gun fired,
how should I dare to go down to the boats among those fiends, still
smoking from their crime? Would not the first of them who saw me wring
my neck like a snipe's? Would not my absence itself be an evidence to
them of my alarm, and therefore of my fatal knowledge? It was all over,
I thought. Good-by to the _Hispaniola_, good-by to the squire, the
doctor, and the captain. There was nothing left for me but death by
starvation, or death by the hands of the mutineers.

All this while, as I say, I was still running, and, without taking any
notice, I had drawn near to the foot of the little hill with the two
peaks, and had got into a part of the island where the wild oaks grew
more widely apart, and seemed more like forest trees in their bearing
and dimensions. Mingled with these were a few scattered pines, some
fifty, some nearer seventy, feet high. The air, too, smelled more fresh
than down beside the marsh.

And here a fresh alarm brought me to a standstill with a thumping heart.

[Illustration]




THE MAN OF THE ISLAND


From the side of the hill, which was here steep and stony, a spout of
gravel was dislodged, and fell rattling and bounding through the trees.
My eyes turned instinctively in that direction, and I saw a figure leap
with great rapidity behind the trunk of a pine. What it was, whether
bear, or man, or monkey, I could in nowise tell. It seemed dark and
shaggy; more I knew not. But the terror of this new apparition brought
me to a stand.

I was now, it seemed, cut off upon both sides: behind me the murderers,
before me this lurking nondescript. And immediately I began to prefer
the dangers that I knew to those I knew not. Silver himself appeared
less terrible in contrast with this creature of the woods, and I turned
on my heel, and, looking sharply behind me over my shoulder, began to
retrace my steps in the direction of the boats.

Instantly the figure reappeared, and, making a wide circuit, began to
head me off. I was tired, at any rate, but had I been as fresh as when I
rose, I could see it was in vain for me to contend in speed with such an
adversary. From trunk to trunk the creature flitted like a deer, running
man-like on two legs, but unlike any man that I had ever seen, stooping
almost double as it ran. Yet a man it was! I could no longer be in doubt
about that.

I began to recall what I had heard of cannibals. I was within an ace of
calling for help. But the mere fact that he was a man, however wild, had
somewhat reassured me, and my fear of Silver began to revive in
proportion. I stood still, therefore, and cast about for some method of
escape, and as I was so thinking, the recollection of my pistol flashed
into my mind. As soon as I remembered I was not defenseless, courage
glowed again in my heart, and I set my face resolutely for this man of
the island, and walked briskly toward him.

He was concealed by this time, behind another tree-trunk, but he must
have been watching me closely, for as soon as I began to move in his
direction he reappeared and took a step to meet me. Then he hesitated,
drew back, came forward again, and, at last, to my wonder and confusion,
threw himself on his knees and held out his clasped hands in
supplication.

At that I once more stopped.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"Ben Gunn," he answered, and his voice sounded hoarse and awkward, like
a rusty lock. "I'm poor Ben Gunn, I am; and I haven't spoke with a
Christian these three years."

I could now see that he was a white man like myself, and that his
features were even pleasing. His skin, wherever it was exposed, was
burned by the sun; even his lips were black, and his fair eyes looked
quite startling in so dark a face. Of all the beggar-men that I had seen
or fancied, he was the chief for raggedness. He was clothed with tatters
of old ships' canvas and old sea-cloth, and this extraordinary patchwork
was all held together by a system of the most various and incongruous
fastenings, brass buttons, bits of stick, and loops of tarry gaskin.
About his waist he wore an old brass-buckled leather belt, which was the
one thing solid in his whole accouterment.

"Three years!" I cried. "Were you shipwrecked?"

"Nay, mate," said he, "marooned."

I had heard the word and I knew it stood for a horrible kind of
punishment common enough among the buccaneers, in which the offender is
put ashore with a little powder and shot and left behind on some
desolate and distant island.

"Marooned three years agone," he continued, "and lived on goats since
then, and berries and oysters. Wherever a man is, says I, a man can do
for himself. But, mate, my heart is sore for Christian diet. You
mightn't happen to have a piece of cheese about you, now? No? Well,
many's the long night I've dreamed of cheese--toasted, mostly--and woke
up again, and here I were."

"If ever I can get aboard again," said I, "you shall have cheese by the
stone."

All this time he had been feeling the stuff of my jacket, smoothing my
hands, looking at my boots, and generally, in the intervals of his
speech, showing a childish pleasure in the presence of a
fellow-creature. But at my last words he perked up into a kind of
startled slyness.

"If ever you get aboard again, says you?" he repeated. "Why, now, who's
to hinder you?"

"Not you, I know," was my reply.

"And right you was," he cried. "Now you--what do you call yourself,
mate?"

"Jim," I told him.

"Jim, Jim," says he, quite pleased, apparently. "Well, now, Jim, I've
lived that rough as you'd be ashamed to hear of. Now, for instance, you
wouldn't think I had had a pious mother--to look at me?" he asked.

"Why, no, not in particular," I answered.

"Ah, well," said he, "but I had--remarkable pious. And I was a civil,
pious boy, and could rattle off my catechism that fast as you couldn't
tell one word from another. And here's what it come to, Jim, and it
begun with chuck-farthen on the blessed gravestones! That's what it
begun with, but it went further'n that, and so my mother told me, and
predicked the whole, she did, the pious woman. But it were Providence
that put me here. I've thought it all out in this here lonely island and
I'm back on piety. You can't catch me tasting rum so much, but just a
thimbleful for luck, of course, the first chance I have. I'm bound I'll
be good, and I see the way to. And, Jim"--looking all round him and
lowering his voice to a whisper--"I'm rich."

I now felt sure that the poor fellow had gone crazy in his solitude, and
I suppose I must have shown the feeling in my face, for he repeated the
statement hotly:

"Rich! rich! I says. And I'll tell you what, I'll make a man of you,
Jim. Ah, Jim, you'll bless your stars, you will, you was the first that
found me!"

And at this there came suddenly a lowering shadow over his face and he
tightened his grasp upon my hand and raised a forefinger threateningly
before my eyes.

"Now, Jim, you tell me true; that ain't Flint's ship?" he asked.

At this I had a happy inspiration. I began to believe that I had found
an ally and I answered him at once.

"It's not Flint's ship and Flint is dead, but I'll tell you true, as
you ask me--there are some of Flint's hands aboard; worse luck for the
rest of us."

"Not a man--with one--leg?" he gasped.

"Silver?" I asked.

"Ah, Silver!" says he, "that were his name."

"He's the cook, and the ringleader, too."

He was still holding me by the wrist, and at that he gave it quite a
wring. "If you was sent by Long John," he said, "I'm as good as pork and
I know it. But where was you, do you suppose?"

I had made my mind up in a moment, and by way of answer told him the
whole story of our voyage and the predicament in which we found
ourselves. He heard me with the keenest interest, and when I had done he
patted me on the head.

"You're a good lad, Jim," he said, "and you're all in a clove hitch,
ain't you? Well, you just put your trust in Ben Gunn--Ben Gunn's the man
to do it. Would you think it likely, now, that your squire would prove a
liberal-minded one in case of help--him being in a clove hitch, as you
remark?"

I told him the squire was the most liberal of men.

"Ay, but you see," returned Ben Gunn, "I didn't mean giving me a gate to
keep and a suit of livery clothes, and such; that's not my mark, Jim.
What I mean is, would he be likely to come down to the toon of, say one
thousand pounds out of money that's as good as a man's own already?"

"I am sure he would," said I. "As it was, all hands were to share."

"_And_ a passage home?" he added, with a look of great shrewdness.

"Why," I cried, "the squire's a gentleman. And, besides, if we got rid
of the others, we should want you to help work the vessel home."

"Ah," said he, "so you would." And he seemed very much relieved.

"Now, I'll tell you what," he went on. "So much I'll tell you, and no
more. I were in Flint's ship when he buried the treasure; he and six
along--six strong seamen. They was ashore nigh on a week, and us
standing off and on in the old _Walrus_. One fine day up went the
signal, and here come Flint by himself in a little boat, and his head
done up in a blue scarf. The sun was getting up, and mortal white he
looked about the cutwater. But, there he was, you mind, and the six all
dead--dead and buried. How had he done it, not a man aboard us could
make out. It was battle, murder, and sudden death, leastways--him
against six. Billy Bones was the mate; Long John, he was quartermaster;
and they asked him where the treasure was. 'Ah,' says he, 'you can go
ashore, if you like, and stay,' he says; 'but as for the ship, she'll
beat up for more, by thunder!' That's what he said.

"Well, I was in another ship three years back, and we sighted this
island. 'Boys,' said I, 'here's Flint's treasure; let's land and find
it.' The cap'n was displeased at that; but my messmates were all of a
mind, and landed. Twelve days they looked for it, and every day they had
the worse word for me, until one fine morning all hands went aboard. 'As
for you, Benjamin Gunn,' says they, 'here's a musket,' they says, 'and a
spade, and a pickax. You can stay here and find Flint's money for
yourself,' they says.

"Well, Jim, three years have I been here, and not a bite of Christian
diet from that day to this. But now, you look here; look at me. Do I
look like a man before the mast? No, says you. Nor I weren't, neither, I
says."

And with that he winked and pinched me hard.

"Just you mention them words to your squire, Jim," he went on. "Nor he
weren't neither--that's the words. Three years he were the man of this
island, light and dark, fair and rain; and sometimes he would, may be,
think upon a prayer (says you), and sometimes he would, may be, think of
his old mother, so be as she's alive (you'll say); but the most part of
Gunn's time (this is what you'll say)--the most part of his time was
took up with another matter. And then you'll give him a nip, like I do."

And he pinched me again, in the most confidential manner.

"Then," he continued, "then you'll up, and you'll say this: Gunn is a
good man (you'll say), and he puts a precious sight more confidence--a
precious sight, mind that--in a gen'leman born than in these gen'lemen
of fortune, having been one hisself."

"Well," I said, "I don't understand one word that you've been saying.
But that's neither here nor there; for how am I to get on board?"

"Ah," said he, "that's the hitch, for sure. Well, there's my boat that I
made with my two hands. I keep her under the white rock. If the worst
come to the worst, we might try that after dark. Hi!" he broke out,
"what's that?"

For just then, although the sun had still an hour or two to run, all the
echoes of the island awoke and bellowed to the thunder of a cannon.

"They have begun to fight!" I cried. "Follow me!"

And I began to run toward the anchorage, my terrors all forgotten;
while, close at my side, the marooned man in his goat-skins trotted
easily and lightly.

"Left, left," says he; "keep to your left hand, mate Jim! Under the
trees with you! There's where I killed my first goat. They don't come
down here now; they're all mastheaded on them mountings for the fear of
Benjamin Gunn. Ah! and there's the cetemery"--cemetery he must have
meant. "You see the mounds? I come here and prayed, nows and thens, when
I thought maybe a Sunday would be about doo. It weren't quite a chapel,
but it seemed more solemn like; and then, says you, Ben Gunn was
shorthanded--no chapling, nor so much as a Bible and a flag, you says."

So he kept talking as I ran, neither expecting nor receiving any answer.

The cannon-shot was followed, after a considerable interval, by a volley
of small arms.

Another pause, and then, not a quarter of a mile in front of me, I
beheld the Union Jack flutter in the air above a wood.




PART IV

THE STOCKADE




NARRATIVE CONTINUED BY THE DOCTOR--HOW THE SHIP WAS ABANDONED


It was about half-past one--three bells in the sea phrase--that the two
boats went ashore from the _Hispaniola_. The captain, the squire, and I
were talking matters over in the cabin. Had there been a breath of wind,
we should have fallen on the six mutineers who were left aboard with us,
slipped our cable, and away to sea. But the wind was wanting; and, to
complete our helplessness, down came Hunter with the news that Jim
Hawkins had slipped into a boat and was gone ashore with the rest.

It had never occurred to us to doubt Jim Hawkins, but we were alarmed
for his safety. With the men in the temper they were in, it seemed an
even chance if we should see the lad again. We ran on deck. The pitch
was bubbling in the seams; the nasty stench of the place turned me sick;
if ever a man smelled fever and dysentery it was in that abominable
anchorage. The six scoundrels were sitting grumbling under a sail in the
forecastle; ashore we could see the gigs made fast, and a man sitting in
each, hard by where the river runs in. One of them was whistling
"Lillibullero."

Waiting was a strain, and it was decided that Hunter and I should go
ashore with the jolly-boat, in quest of information.

The gigs had leaned to their right, but Hunter and I pulled straight in,
in the direction of the stockade upon the chart. The two who were left
guarding their boats seemed in a bustle at our appearance;
"Lillibullero" stopped off, and I could see the pair discussing what
they ought to do. Had they gone and told Silver, all might have turned
out differently; but they had their orders, I suppose, and decided to
sit quietly where they were and hark back again to "Lillibullero."

There was a slight bend in the coast, and I steered so as to put it
between us. Even before we landed we had thus lost sight of the gigs; I
jumped out and came as near running as I durst, with a big silk
handkerchief under my hat for coolness' sake, and a brace of pistols
ready primed for safety.

I had not gone a hundred yards when I came on the stockade.

This was how it was: A spring of clear water arose at the top of a
knoll. Well, on the knoll, and inclosing the spring, they had clapped a
stout log house, fit to hold two-score people on a pinch, and loopholed
for musketry on every side. All around this they had cleared a wide
space, and then the thing was completed by a paling six feet high,
without door or opening, too strong to pull down without time and labor,
and too open to shelter the besiegers. The people in the log house had
them in every way; they stood quiet in the shelter and shot the others
like partridges. All they wanted was a good watch and food; for, short
of a complete surprise, they might have held the place against a
regiment.

What particularly took my fancy was the spring. For, though we had a
good place of it in the cabin of the _Hispaniola_, with plenty of arms
and ammunition, and things to eat, and excellent wines, there had been
one thing overlooked--we had no water. I was thinking this over, when
there came ringing over the island the cry of a man at the point of
death. I was not new to violent death--I have served his Royal Highness
the Duke of Cumberland, and got a wound myself at Fontenoy--but I know
my pulse went dot and carry one. "Jim Hawkins is gone," was my first
thought.

It is something to have been an old soldier, but more still to have been
a doctor. There is no time to dilly-dally in our work. And so now I made
up my mind instantly, and with no time lost returned to the shore and
jumped on board the jolly-boat.

By good fortune Hunter pulled a good oar. We made the water fly, and the
boat was soon alongside and I aboard the schooner.

I found them all shaken, as was natural. The squire was sitting down, as
white as a sheet, thinking of the harm he had led us to, the good soul!
and one of the six forecastle hands was little better.

"There's a man," said Captain Smollett, nodding toward him, "new to this
work. He came nigh-hand fainting, doctor, when he heard the cry. Another
touch of the rudder and that man would join us."

I told my plan to the captain, and between us we settled on the details
of its accomplishment.

We put old Redruth in the gallery between the cabin and the forecastle,
with three or four loaded muskets and a mattress for protection. Hunter
brought the boat round under the stern port, and Joyce and I set to work
loading her with powder, tins, muskets, bags of biscuits, kegs of pork,
a cask of cognac, and my invaluable medicine chest.

In the meantime the squire and the captain stayed on deck, and the
latter hailed the coxswain, who was the principal man aboard.

"Mr. Hands," he said, "here are two of us with a brace of pistols each.
If any one of you six make a signal of any description, that man's
dead."

They were a good deal taken aback; and, after a little consultation, one
and all tumbled down the fore companion, thinking, no doubt, to take us
on the rear. But when they saw Redruth waiting for them in the sparred
gallery, they went about ship at once, and a head popped out again on
deck.

"Down, dog!" cried the captain.

And the head popped back again, and we heard no more for the time of
these six very faint-hearted seamen.

By this time, tumbling things in as they came, we had the jolly-boat
loaded as much as we dared. Joyce and I got out through the stern port,
and we made for shore again, as fast as oars could take us.

This second trip fairly aroused the watchers along shore. "Lillibullero"
was dropped again, and just before we lost sight of them behind the
little point, one of them whipped ashore and disappeared. I had half a
mind to change my plan and destroy their boats, but I feared that Silver
and the others might be close at hand, and all might very well be lost
by trying for too much.

We had soon touched land in the same place as before and set to work to
provision the blockhouse. All three made the first journey, heavily
laden, and tossed our stores over the palisade. Then, leaving Joyce to
guard them--one man, to be sure, but with half a dozen muskets--Hunter
and I returned to the jolly-boat, and loaded ourselves once more. So we
proceeded, without pausing to take breath, till the whole cargo was
bestowed, when the two servants took up their position in the
blockhouse, and I, with all my power, sculled back to the _Hispaniola_.

That we should have risked a second boat load seems more daring than it
really was. They had the advantage of numbers, of course, but we had the
advantage of arms. Not one of the men ashore had a musket, and before
they could get within range for pistol shooting, we flattered ourselves
we should be able to give a good account of a half dozen at least.

The squire was waiting for me at the stern window, all his faintness
gone from him. He caught the painter and made it fast, and we fell to
loading the boat for our very lives. Pork, powder, and biscuit was the
cargo, with only a musket and a cutlass apiece for squire and me and
Redruth and the captain. The rest of the arms and powder we dropped
overboard in two fathoms and a half of water, so that we could see the
bright steel shining far below us in the sun on the clean, sandy bottom.

By this time the tide was beginning to ebb, and the ship was swinging
round to her anchor. Voices were heard faintly halloaing in the
direction of the two gigs; and though this reassured us for Joyce and
Hunter, who were well to the eastward, it warned our party to be off.

Redruth retreated from his place in the gallery and dropped into the
boat, which we then brought round to the ship's counter, to be handier
for Captain Smollett.

"Now, men," said he, "do you hear me?"

There was no answer from the forecastle.

"It's to you, Abraham Gray--it's to you I am speaking."

Still no reply.

"Gray," resumed Mr. Smollett, a little louder, "I am leaving this ship,
and I order you to follow your captain. I know you are a good man at
bottom, and I dare say not one of the lot of you's as bad as he makes
out. I have my watch here in my hand; I give you thirty seconds to join
me in."

There was a pause.

"Come, my fine fellow," continued the captain, "don't hang so long in
stays. I'm risking my life and the lives of these good gentlemen every
second."

There was a sudden scuffle, a sound of blows, and out burst Abraham Gray
with a knife-cut on the side of the cheek, and came running to the
captain, like a dog to the whistle.

"I'm with you, sir," said he.

And the next moment he and the captain had dropped aboard of us, and we
had shoved off and given way.

We were clear out of the ship, but not yet ashore in our stockade.




NARRATIVE CONTINUED BY THE DOCTOR--THE JOLLY-BOAT'S LAST TRIP


This fifth trip was quite different from any of the others. In the first
place, the little gallipot of a boat that we were in was gravely
overloaded. Five grown men, and three of them--Trelawney, Redruth, and
the captain--over six feet high, was already more than she was meant to
carry. Add to that the powder, pork, and the bread-bags. The gunwale was
lipping astern. Several times we shipped a little water, and my breeches
and the tails of my coat were all soaking wet before we had gone a
hundred yards.

The captain made us trim the boat, and we got her to lie a little more
evenly. All the same, we were afraid to breathe.

In the second place, the ebb was now making--a strong, rippling current
running westward through the basin, and then south'ard and seaward down
the straits by which we had entered in the morning. Even the ripples
were a danger to our overloaded craft, but the worst of it was that we
were swept out of our true course, and away from our proper
landing-place behind the point. If we let the current have its way we
should come ashore beside the gigs, where the pirates might appear at
any moment.

"I cannot keep her head for the stockade, sir," said I to the captain. I
was steering, while he and Redruth, two fresh men, were at the oars.
"The tide keeps washing her down. Could you pull a little stronger?"

"Not without swamping the boat," said he. "You must bear up, sir, if you
please--bear up until you see you're gaining."

I tried, and found by experiment that the tide kept sweeping us westward
until I had laid her head due east, or just about right angles to the
way we ought to go.

"We'll never get ashore at this rate," said I.

"If it's the only course that we can lie, sir, we must even lie it,"
returned the captain. "We must keep upstream. You see, sir," he went on,
"if once we dropped to leeward of the landing-place, it's hard to say
where we should get ashore, besides the chance of being boarded by the
gigs; whereas, the way we go the current must slacken, and then we can
dodge back along the shore."

"The current's less a'ready, sir," said the man Gray, who was sitting in
the foresheets; "you can ease her off a bit."

"Thank you, my man," said I, quite as if nothing had happened, for we
had all quietly made up our minds to treat him like one of ourselves.

Suddenly the captain spoke up again, and I thought his voice was a
little changed.

"The gun!" said he.

"I have thought of that," said I, for I made sure he was thinking of a
bombardment of the fort. "They could never get the gun ashore, and if
they did, they could never haul it through the woods."

"Look astern, doctor," replied the captain.

We had entirely forgotten the long nine; and there, to our horror, were
the five rogues busy about her, getting off her jacket, as they called
the stout tarpaulin cover under which she sailed. Not only that, but it
flashed into my mind at the same moment that the round shot and the
powder for the gun had been left behind, and a stroke with an ax would
put it all into the possession of the evil ones aboard.

"Israel was Flint's gunner," said Gray, hoarsely.

At any risk, we put the boat's head direct for the landing-place. By
this time we had got so far out of the run of the current that we kept
steerage way even at our necessarily gentle rate of rowing, and I could
keep her steady for the goal. But the worst of it was, that with the
course I now held, we turned our broadside instead of our stern to the
_Hispaniola_, and offered a target like a barn door.

I could hear, as well as see, that brandy-faced rascal, Israel Hands,
plumping down a round shot on the deck.

"Who's the best shot?" asked the captain.

"Mr. Trelawney, out and away," said I.

"Mr. Trelawney, will you please pick me off one of those men, sir?
Hands, if possible," said the captain.

Trelawney was as cold as steel. He looked to the priming of his gun.

"Now," cried the captain, "easy with that gun, sir, or you'll swamp the
boat. All hands stand by to trim her when he aims."

The squire raised his gun, the rowing ceased, and we leaned over to the
other side to keep the balance, and all was so nicely contrived that we
did not ship a drop.

[Illustration: _They had the gun, by this time, slewed around upon the
swivel_ (Page 125)]

They had the gun, by this time, slewed around upon the swivel, and
Hands, who was at the muzzle, with the rammer, was, in consequence, the
most exposed. However, we had no luck; for just as Trelawney fired,
down he stooped, the ball whistling over him, and it was one of the
other four who fell.

The cry he gave was echoed, not only by his companions on board, but by
a great number of voices from the shore, and looking in that direction I
saw the other pirates trooping out from among the trees and tumbling
into their places in the boats.

"Here come the gigs, sir," said I.

"Give way, then," said the captain. "We mustn't mind if we swamp her
now. If we can't get ashore, all's up."

"Only one of the gigs is being manned, sir," I added; "the crew of the
other is most likely going around by shore to cut us off."

"They'll have a hot run, sir," returned the captain. "Jack ashore, you
know. It's not them I mind; it's the round shot. Carpet bowls! My lady's
maid couldn't miss. Tell us, squire, when you see the match, and we'll
hold water."

In the meantime we had been making headway at a good pace for a boat so
overloaded, and we had shipped but little water in the process. We were
now close in; thirty or forty strokes and we should beach her, for the
ebb had already disclosed a narrow belt of sand below the clustering
trees. The gig was no longer to be feared; the little point had already
concealed it from our eyes. The ebb-tide, which had so cruelly delayed
us, was now making reparation, and delaying our assailants. The one
source of danger was the gun.

"If I durst," said the captain, "I'd stop and pick off another man."

But it was plain that they meant nothing should delay their shot. They
had never so much as looked at their fallen comrade, though he was not
dead, and I could see him trying to crawl away.

"Ready!" cried the squire.

"Hold!" cried the captain, quick as an echo.

And he and Redruth backed with a great heave that sent her astern bodily
under water. The report fell in at the same instant of time. This was
the first that Jim heard, the sound of the squire's shot not having
reached him. When the ball passed, not one of us precisely knew, but I
fancy it must have been over our heads, and that the wind of it may have
contributed to our disaster.

At any rate the boat sunk by the stern, quite gently, in three feet of
water, leaving the captain and myself, facing each other, on our feet.
The other three took complete headers, and came up again, drenched and
bubbling.

So far there was no great harm. No lives were lost, and we could wade
ashore in safety. But there were all our stores at the bottom, and, to
make things worse, only two guns out of five remained in a state for
service. Mine I had snatched from my knees, and held over my head, by a
sort of instinct. As for the captain, he had carried his over his
shoulder by a bandoleer, and, like a wise man, lock uppermost. The other
three had gone down with the boat. To add to our concern, we heard
voices already drawing near us in the woods along the shore; and we had
not only the danger of being cut off from the stockade in our
half-crippled state, but the fear before us whether, if Hunter and Joyce
were attacked by half a dozen, they would have the sense and conduct to
stand firm. Hunter was steady, that we knew; Joyce was a doubtful
case--a pleasant, polite man for a valet, and to brush one's clothes,
but not entirely fitted for a man-of-war.

With all this in our minds, we waded ashore as fast as we could, leaving
behind us the poor jolly-boat, and a good half of all our powder and
provisions.




NARRATIVE CONTINUED BY THE DOCTOR--END OF THE FIRST DAY'S FIGHTING


We made our best speed across the strip of wood that now divided us from
the stockade, and at every step we took the voices of the buccaneers
rang nearer. Soon we could hear their footfalls as they ran, and the
cracking of the branches as they breasted across a bit of thicket.

I began to see we should have a brush for it in earnest, and looked to
my priming.

"Captain," said I, "Trelawney is the dead shot. Give him your gun; his
own is useless."

They exchanged guns, and Trelawney, silent and cool, as he had been
since the beginning of the bustle, hung a moment on his heel to see that
all was fit for service. At the same time, observing Gray to be unarmed,
I handed him my cutlass. It did all our hearts good to see him spit in
his hand, knit his brows, and make the blade sing through the air. It
was plain from every line of his body that our new hand was worth his
salt.

Forty paces farther we came to the edge of the wood and saw the stockade
in front of us. We struck the inclosure about the middle of the south
side, and, almost at the same time, seven mutineers--Job Anderson, the
boatswain, at their head--appeared in full cry at the southwestern
corner.

They paused, as if taken aback, and before they recovered, not only the
squire and I, but Hunter and Joyce from the blockhouse, had time to
fire.

The four shots came in rather a scattering volley, but they did the
business; one of the enemy actually fell, and the rest, without
hesitation, turned and plunged into the trees.

After reloading we walked down the outside of the palisade to see to the
fallen enemy. He was stone dead--shot through the heart.

We began to rejoice over our good success, when just at that moment a
pistol cracked in the bush, a ball whistled close past my ear and poor
Tom Redruth stumbled and fell his length on the ground. Both the squire
and I returned the shot, but as we had nothing to aim at, it is probable
we only wasted powder. Then we reloaded and turned our attention to poor
Tom.

The captain and Gray were already examining him, and I saw with half an
eye that all was over.

I believe the readiness of our return volley had scattered the mutineers
once more, for we were suffered without further molestation to get the
poor old gamekeeper hoisted over the stockade, and carried, groaning and
bleeding, into the log-house.

Poor old fellow, he had not uttered one word of surprise, complaint,
fear, or even acquiescence, from the very beginning of our troubles till
now, when we had laid him down in the log-house to die! He had lain like
a Trojan behind his mattress in the gallery; he had followed every order
silently, doggedly, and well; he was the oldest of our party by a score
of years; and now, sullen, old, serviceable servant, it was he that was
to die.

The squire dropped down beside him on his knees and kissed his hand,
crying like a child.

"Be I going, doctor?" he asked.

"Tom, my man," said I, "you're going home."

"I wish I had had a lick at them with the gun first," he replied.

"Tom," said the squire, "say you forgive me, won't you?"

"Would that be respectful like, from me to you, squire?" was the answer.
"Howsoever, so be it, amen!"

After a little while of silence he said he thought somebody might read a
prayer. "It's the custom, sir," he added, apologetically. And not long
after, without another word, he passed away.

In the meantime the captain, whom I had observed to be wonderfully
swollen about the chest and pockets, had turned out a great many various
stores--the British colors, a Bible, a coil of stoutish rope, pen, ink,
the log-book, and pounds of tobacco. He had found a longish fir tree
lying felled and cleared in the inclosure, and, with the help of Hunter,
he had set it up at the corner of the log-house, where the trunks
crossed and made an angle. Then, climbing on the roof, he had with his
own hand bent and run up the colors.

This seemed mightily to relieve him. He re-entered the log-house and set
about counting up the stores, as if nothing else existed. But he had an
eye on Tom's passage for all that, and as soon as all was over came
forward with another flag and reverently spread it on the body.

"Don't you take on, sir," he said, shaking the squire's hand. "All's
well with him; no fear for a hand that's been shot down in his duty to
captain and owner. It mayn't be good divinity, but it's a fact."

Then he pulled me aside.

"Doctor Livesey," he said, "in how many weeks do you and squire expect
the consort?"

I told him it was a question, not of weeks, but of months; that if we
were not back by the end of August Blandly was to send to find us, but
neither sooner nor later. "You can calculate for yourself," I said.

"Why, yes," returned the captain, scratching his head, "and making a
large allowance, sir, for all the gifts of Providence, I should say we
were pretty close hauled."

"How do you mean?" I asked.

"It's a pity, sir, we lost that second load. That's what I mean,"
replied the captain. "As for powder and shot, we'll do. But the rations
are short, very short--so short, Doctor Livesey, that we're perhaps as
well without that extra mouth."

And he pointed to the dead body under the flag.

Just then, with a roar and a whistle, a round shot passed high above the
roof of the log-house and plumped far beyond us in the wood.

"Oho!" said the captain. "Blaze away! You've little enough powder
already, my lads."

At the second trial the aim was better and the ball descended inside the
stockade, scattering a cloud of sand, but doing no further damage.

"Captain," said the squire, "the house is quite invisible from the ship.
It must be the flag they are aiming at. Would it not be wiser to take it
in?"

"Strike my colors!" cried the captain. "No, sir, not I," and as soon as
he had said the words I think we all agreed with him. For it was not
only a piece of stout, seamanly good feeling; it was good policy
besides, and showed our enemies that we despised their cannonade.

All through the evening they kept thundering away. Ball after ball flew
over or fell short, or kicked up the sand in the inclosure; but they had
to fire so high that the shot fell dead and buried itself in the soft
sand. We had no ricochet to fear; and though one popped in through the
roof of the log-house and out again through the floor, we soon got used
to that sort of horse-play and minded it no more than cricket.

"There is one thing good about all this," observed the captain; "the
wood in front of us is likely clear. The ebb has made a good while; our
stores should be uncovered. Volunteers to go and bring in pork."

Gray and Hunter were the first to come forward. Well armed, they stole
out of the stockade, but it proved a useless mission. The mutineers were
bolder than we fancied, or they put more trust in Israel's gunnery, for
four or five of them were busy carrying off our stores and wading out
with them to one of the gigs that lay close by, pulling an oar or so to
hold her steady against the current. Silver was in the stern-sheets in
command, and every man of them was now provided with a musket from some
secret magazine of their own.

The captain sat down to his log, and here is the beginning of the entry:

    "Alexander Smollett, master; David Livesey, ship's doctor; Abraham
    Gray, carpenter's mate; John Trelawney, owner; John Hunter and
    Richard Joyce, owner's servants, landsmen--being all that is left
    faithful of the ship's company--with stores for ten days at short
    rations, came ashore this day and flew British colors on the
    log-house in Treasure Island. Thomas Redruth, owner's servant,
    landsman, shot by the mutineers; James Hawkins, cabin-boy--"

And at the same time I was wondering over poor Jim Hawkins' fate.

A hail on the land side.

"Somebody hailing us," said Hunter, who was on guard.

"Doctor! squire! captain! Hallo, Hunter, is that you?" came the cries.

And I ran to the door in time to see Jim Hawkins, safe and sound, come
climbing over the stockade.

[Illustration]




NARRATIVE RESUMED BY JIM HAWKINS--THE GARRISON IN THE STOCKADE


As soon as Ben Gunn saw the colors he came to a halt, stopped me by the
arm and sat down.

"Now," said he, "there's your friends, sure enough."

"Far more likely it's the mutineers," I answered.

"That!" he cried. "Why, in a place like this, where nobody puts in but
gen'lemen of fortune, Silver would fly the Jolly Roger, you don't make
no doubt of that. No, that's your friends. There's been blows, too, and
I reckon your friends has had the best of it; and here they are ashore
in the old stockade, as was made years and years ago by Flint. Ah, he
was the man to have a headpiece, was Flint! Barring rum, his match was
never seen. He were afraid of none, not he; on'y Silver--Silver was that
genteel."

"Well," said I, "that may be so, and so be it; all the more reason that
I should hurry on and join my friends."

"Nay, mate," returned Ben, "not you. You're a good boy, or I'm mistook;
but you're on'y a boy, all told. Now Ben Gunn is fly. Rum wouldn't bring
me there, where you're going--not rum wouldn't, till I see your born
gen'leman, and gets it on his word of honor. And you won't forget my
words: 'A precious sight' (that's what you'll say), 'a precious sight
more confidence'--and then nips him."

And he pinched me the third time with the same air of cleverness.

"And when Ben Gunn is wanted you know where to find him, Jim. Just where
you found him to-day. And him that comes is to have a white thing in his
hand; and he's to come alone. Oh! and you'll say this: 'Ben Gunn,' says
you, 'has reasons of his own.'"

"Well," said I, "I believe I understand. You have something to propose,
and you wish to see the squire or the doctor, and you're to be found
where I found you. Is that all?"

"And when? says you," he added. "Why, from about noon observation to
about six bells."

"Good," says I, "and now may I go?"

"You won't forget?" he inquired, anxiously. "Precious sight, and reasons
of his own, says you. Reasons of his own; that's the mainstay; as
between man and man. Well, then"--still holding me--"I reckon you can
go, Jim. And, Jim, if you was to see Silver, you wouldn't go for to sell
Ben Gunn? wild horses wouldn't draw it from you? No, says you. And if
them pirates came ashore, Jim, what would you say but there'd be widders
in the morning?"

Here he was interrupted by a loud report, and a cannon ball came tearing
through the trees and pitched in the sand, not a hundred yards from
where we two were talking. The next moment each of us had taken to our
heels in a different direction.

For a good hour to come frequent reports shook the island, and balls
kept crashing through the woods. I moved from hiding-place to
hiding-place, always pursued, or so it seemed to me, by these terrifying
missiles. But toward the end of the bombardment, though still I durst
not venture in the direction of the stockade, where the balls fell
oftenest, I had begun, in a manner, to pluck up my heart again; and
after a long detour to the east, crept down among the shore-side trees.

The sun had just set, the sea breeze was rustling and tumbling in the
woods, and ruffling the gray surface of the anchorage; the tide, too,
was far out, and great tracts of sand lay uncovered; the air, after the
heat of the day, chilled me through my jacket.

The _Hispaniola_ still lay where she had anchored; but, sure enough,
there was the Jolly Roger--the black flag of piracy--flying from her
peak. Even as I looked there came another red flash and another report,
that sent the echoes clattering, and one more round shot whistled
through the air. It was the last of the cannonade.

I lay for some time, watching the bustle which succeeded the attack. Men
were demolishing something with axes on the beach near the stockade--the
poor jolly-boat, I afterwards discovered. Away, near the mouth of the
river, a great fire was glowing among the trees, and between that point
and the ship one of the gigs kept coming and going, the men, whom I had
seen so gloomy, shouting at the oars like children. But there was a
sound in their voices which suggested rum.

At length I thought I might return towards the stockade. I was pretty
far down on the low, sandy spit that incloses the anchorage to the east,
and is joined at half-water to Skeleton Island; and now, as I rose to my
feet, I saw, some distance farther down the spit, and rising from among
low bushes, an isolated rock, pretty high, and peculiarly white in
color. It occurred to me that this might be the white rock of which Ben
Gunn had spoken, and that some day or other a boat might be wanted, and
I should know where to look for one.

Then I skirted among the woods until I had regained the rear, or
shoreward side, of the stockade, and was soon warmly welcomed by the
faithful party.

I had soon told my story, and began to look about me. The log-house was
made of unsquared trunks of pine--roof, walls, and floor. The latter
stood in several places as much as a foot or a foot and a half above the
surface of the sand. There was a porch at the door, and under this porch
the little spring welled up into an artificial basin of a rather odd
kind--no other than a great ship's kettle of iron, with the bottom
knocked out, and sunk "to her bearings," as the captain said, among the
sand.

Little had been left beside the framework of the house, but in one
corner there was a stone slab laid down by way of hearth, and an old
rusty iron basket to contain the fire.

The slopes of the knoll and all the inside of the stockade had been
cleared of timber to build the house, and we could see by the stumps
what a fine and lofty grove had been destroyed. Most of the soil had
been washed away or buried in drift after the removal of the trees; only
where the streamlet ran down from the kettle a thick bed of moss and
some ferns and little creeping bushes were still green among the sand.
Very close around the stockade--too close for defense, they said--the
wood still flourished high and dense, all of fir on the land side, but
toward the sea with a large admixture of live-oaks.

The cold evening breeze, of which I have spoken, whistled through every
chink of the rude building, and sprinkled the floor with a continual
rain of fine sand. There was sand in our eyes, sand in our teeth, sand
in our suppers, sand dancing in the spring at the bottom of the kettle,
for all the world like porridge beginning to boil. Our chimney was a
square hole in the roof; it was but a little part of the smoke that
found its way out, and the rest eddied about the house, and kept us
coughing and piping the eye.

Add to this that Gray, the new man, had his face tied up in a bandage
for a cut he had got in breaking away from the mutineers; and that poor
old Tom Redruth, still unburied, lay along the wall, stiff and stark,
under the Union Jack.

If we had been allowed to sit idle, we should all have fallen in the
blues, but Captain Smollett was never the man for that. All hands were
called up before him, and he divided us into watches. The doctor, and
Gray, and I, for one; the squire, Hunter, and Joyce upon the other.
Tired as we all were, two were sent out for firewood, two more were sent
to dig a grave for Redruth, the doctor was named cook, I was put sentry
at the door, and the captain himself went from one to another, keeping
up our spirits and lending a hand wherever it was wanted.

From time to time the doctor came to the door for a little air and to
rest his eyes, which were almost smoked out of his head, and whenever he
did so, he had a word for me.

"That man Smollett," he said once, "is a better man than I am. And when
I say that it means a deal, Jim."

Another time he came and was silent for a while. Then he put his head on
one side, and looked at me.

"Is this Ben Gunn a man?" he asked.

"I do not know, sir," said I. "I am not very sure whether he's sane."

"If there's any doubt about the matter, he is," returned the doctor. "A
man who has been three years biting his nails on a desert island, Jim,
can't expect to appear as sane as you or me. It doesn't lie in human
nature. Was it cheese you said he had a fancy for?"

"Yes, sir, cheese," I answered.

"Well, Jim," says he, "just see the good that comes of being dainty in
your food. You've seen my snuff-box, haven't you? And you never saw me
take snuff; the reason being that in my snuff-box I carry a piece of
Parmesan cheese--a cheese made in Italy, very nutritious. Well, that's
for Ben Gunn!"

Before supper was eaten we buried old Tom in the sand, and stood round
him for a while bare-headed in the breeze. A good deal of firewood had
been got in, but not enough for the captain's fancy, and he shook his
head over it, and told us we "must get back to this to-morrow rather
livelier." Then, when we had eaten our pork, and each had a good stiff
glass of brandy grog, the three chiefs got together in a corner to
discuss our prospects.

It appears they were at their wits' end what to do, the stores being so
low that we must have been starved into surrender long before help came.
But our best hope, it was decided, was to kill off the buccaneers until
they either hauled down their flag or ran away with the _Hispaniola_.
From nineteen they were already reduced to fifteen, two others were
wounded, and one, at least--the man shot beside the gun--severely
wounded, if he were not dead. Every time we had a crack at them, we were
to take it, saving our own lives, with the extremest care. And, beside
that, we had two able allies--rum and the climate.

As for the first, though we were about half a mile away, we could hear
them roaring and singing late into the night; and as for the second, the
doctor staked his wig, that camped where they were in the marsh, and
unprovided with remedies, the half of them would be on their backs
before a week.

"So," he added, "if we are not all shot down first, they'll be glad to
be packing in the schooner. It's always a ship, and they can get to
buccaneering again, I suppose."

"First ship that I ever lost," said Captain Smollett.

I was dead tired, as you may fancy, and when I got to sleep, which was
not till after a great deal of tossing, I slept like a log of wood.

The rest had long been up, and had already breakfasted and increased the
pile of firewood by about half as much again, when I was awakened by a
bustle and the sound of voices.

"Flag of truce!" I heard someone say, and then, immediately after, with
a cry of surprise, "Silver himself!"

And, at that, up I jumped, and, rubbing my eyes, ran to a loophole in
the wall.




SILVER'S EMBASSY


Sure enough, there were two men just outside the stockade, one of them
waving a white cloth; the other, no less a person than Silver himself,
standing placidly by.

It was still quite early, and the coldest morning that I think I ever
was abroad in; a chill that pierced into the marrow. The sky was bright
and cloudless overhead, and the tops of the trees shone rosily in the
sun. But where Silver stood with his lieutenant all was still in shadow,
and they waded knee-deep in a low, white vapor that had crawled during
the night out of the morass. The chill and the vapor taken together told
a poor tale of the island. It was plainly a damp, feverish, unhealthy
spot.

"Keep indoors, men," said the captain. "Ten to one this is a trick."

Then he hailed the buccaneer.

"Who goes? Stand, or we fire."

"Flag of truce!" cried Silver.

The captain was in the porch, keeping himself carefully out of the way
of a treacherous shot, should any be intended. He turned and spoke to
us.

"Doctor's watch on the lookout. Doctor Livesey, take the north side, if
you please; Jim the east; Gray, west. The watch below, all hands to load
muskets. Lively, men, and careful."

And then he turned again to the mutineers.

"And what do you want with your flag of truce?" he cried.

This time it was the other man who replied.

"Cap'n Silver, sir, to come on board and make terms," he shouted.

"Cap'n Silver! Don't know him. Who's he?" cried the captain. And we
could hear him adding to himself: "Cap'n, is it? My heart, and here's
promotion!"

Long John answered for himself.

"Me, sir. These poor lads have chosen me cap'n, after your desertion,
sir"--laying a particular emphasis upon the word "desertion." "We're
willing to submit, if we can come to terms, and no bones about it. All I
ask is your word, Cap'n Smollett, to let me safe and sound out of this
here stockade, and one minute to get out o' shot before a gun is fired."

"My man," said Captain Smollett, "I have not the slightest desire to
talk to you. If you wish to talk to me, you can come, that's all. If
there's any treachery, it'll be on your side, and the Lord help you."

"That's enough, cap'n," shouted Long John cheerily. "A word from you's
enough. I know a gentleman, and you may lay to that."

We could see the man who carried the flag of truce attempting to hold
Silver back. Nor was that wonderful, seeing how cavalier had been the
captain's answer. But Silver laughed at him aloud, and slapped him on
the back, as if the idea of alarm had been absurd. Then he advanced to
the stockade, threw over his crutch, got a leg up, and with great vigor
and skill succeeded in surmounting the fence and dropping safely to the
other side.

I will confess that I was far too much taken up with what was going on
to be of the slightest use as sentry; indeed, I had already deserted my
eastern loophole and crept up behind the captain, who had now seated
himself on the threshold, with his elbows on his knees, his head in his
hands, and his eyes fixed on the water as it bubbled out of the old iron
kettle in the sand. He was whistling to himself, "Come, Lasses and
Lads."

Silver had terrible hard work getting up the knoll. What with the
steepness of the incline, the thick tree-stumps, and the soft sand, he
and his crutch were as helpless as a ship in stays. But he stuck to it
like a man, in silence, and at last arrived before the captain, whom he
saluted in the handsomest style. He was tricked out in his best; an
immense blue coat, thick with brass buttons, hung as low as to his
knees, and a fine laced hat was set on the back of his head.

"Here you are, my man," said the captain, raising his head. "You had
better sit down."

"You ain't a-going to let me inside, cap'n?" complained Long John. "It's
a main cold morning, to be sure, sir, to sit outside upon the sand."

"Why, Silver," said the captain, "if you had pleased to be an honest man
you might have been sitting in your galley. It's your own doing. You're
either my ship's cook--and then you were treated handsome--or Cap'n
Silver, a common mutineer and pirate, and then you can go hang!"

"Well, well, cap'n," returned the sea-cook, sitting down as he was
bidden on the sand, "you'll have to give me a hand up again, that's all.
A sweet, pretty place you have of it here. Ah, there's Jim! The top of
the morning to you, Jim. Doctor, here's my service. Why, there you all
are together like a happy family, in a manner of speaking."

"If you have anything to say, my man, better say it," said the captain.

"Right you are, Cap'n Smollett," replied Silver. "Dooty is dooty, to be
sure. Well, now, you look here, that was a good lay of yours last night.
I don't deny it was a good lay. Some of you pretty handy with a
handspike-end. And I'll not deny neither but what some of my people was
shook--maybe all was shook; maybe I was shook myself; maybe that's why
I'm here for terms. But you mark me, cap'n, it won't do twice, by
thunder! We'll have to do sentry-go, and ease off a point or so on the
rum. Maybe you think we were all a sheet in the wind's eye. But I'll
tell you I was sober; I was on'y dog tired; and if I'd awoke a second
sooner I'd 'a' caught you at the act, I would. He wasn't dead when I got
round to him, not he."

"Well?" says Captain Smollett, as cool as can be.

All that Silver said was a riddle to him, but you would never have
guessed it from his tone. As for me, I began to have an inkling. Ben
Gunn's last words came back to my mind. I began to suppose that he had
paid the buccaneers a visit while they all lay drunk together round
their fire, and I reckoned up with glee that we had only fourteen
enemies to deal with.

"Well, here it is," said Silver. "We want that treasure, and we'll have
it--that's our point! You would just as soon save your lives, I reckon;
and that's yours. You have a chart, haven't you?"

"That's as may be," replied the captain.

"Oh, well, you have, I know that," returned Long John. "You needn't be
so husky with a man; there ain't a particle of service in that, and you
may lay to it. What I mean is, we want your chart. Now, I never meant
you no harm, myself."

"That won't do with me, my man," interrupted the captain. "We know
exactly what you meant to do, and we don't care; for now, you see, you
can't do it."

And the captain looked at him calmly, and proceeded to fill a pipe.

"If Abe Gray--" Silver broke out.

"Avast there!" cried Mr. Smollett. "Gray told me nothing, and I asked
him nothing; and what's more, I would see you and him and this whole
island blown clean out of the water into blazes first. So there's my
mind for you, my man, on that."

This little whiff of temper seemed to cool Silver down. He had been
growing nettled before, but now he pulled himself together.

"Like enough," said he. "I would set no limits to what gentlemen might
consider shipshape, or might not, as the case were. And, seein' as how
you are about to take a pipe, cap'n, I'll make so free as do likewise."

And he filled a pipe and lighted it; and the two men sat silently
smoking for quite a while, now looking each other in the face, now
stopping their tobacco, now leaning forward to spit. It was as good as
the play to see them.

"Now," resumed Silver, "here it is. You give us the chart to get the
treasure by, and drop shooting poor seamen, and stoving of their heads
in while asleep. You do that and we'll offer you a choice. Either you
come aboard along of us, once the treasure shipped, and then I'll give
you my affy-davy, upon my word of honor, to clap you somewhere safe
ashore. Or, if that ain't to your fancy, some of my hands being rough,
and having old scores, on account of hazing, then you can stay here, you
can. We'll divide stores with you, man for man; and I'll give my
affy-davy, as before, to speak the first ship I sight, and send 'em here
to pick you up. Now you'll own that's talking. Handsomer you couldn't
look to get, not you. And I hope"--raising his voice--"that all hands in
this here blockhouse will overhaul my words, for what is spoke to one is
spoke to all."

Captain Smollett rose from his seat and knocked out the ashes of his
pipe in the palm of his left hand.

"Is that all?" he asked.

"Every last word, by thunder!" answered John. "Refuse that and you've
seen the last of me but musket-balls."

"Very good," said the captain. "Now you'll hear me. If you'll come up
one by one, unarmed, I'll engage to clap you all in irons, and to take
you home to a fair trial in England. If you won't, my name is Alexander
Smollett, I've flown my sovereign's colors, and I'll see you all to Davy
Jones. You can't find the treasure. You can't sail the ship--there's not
a man among you fit to sail the ship. You can't fight us--Gray, there,
got away from five of you. Your ship's in irons, Master Silver; you're
on a lee shore, and so you'll find. I stand here and tell you so, and
they're the last good words you'll get from me; for, in the name of
heaven, I'll put a bullet in your back when next I meet you. Tramp, my
lad. Bundle out of this, please, hand over hand, and double quick."

Silver's face was a picture; his eyes started in his head with wrath. He
shook the fire out of his pipe.

"Give me a hand up!" he cried.

"Not I," returned the captain.

"Who'll give me a hand up?" he roared.

Not a man among us moved. Growling the foulest imprecations, he crawled
along the sand till he got hold of the porch and could hoist himself
again upon his crutch. Then he spat into the spring.

"There!" he cried, "that's what I think of ye. Before an hour's out,
I'll stove in your old blockhouse like a rum puncheon. Laugh, by
thunder, laugh! Before an hour's out, ye'll laugh upon the other side.
Them that die'll be the lucky ones."

And with a dreadful oath he stumbled off, plowed down the sand, was
helped across the stockade, after four or five failures, by the man with
the flag of truce, and disappeared in an instant afterward among the
trees.

 By crossing a swamp, Jim believes he has escaped from Silver and thus can relax and enjoy exploring the mysterious island. This carefree attitude, however, is quickly impinged on, as he hears birds circling overhead that signal that the pirates are nearby. By hiding in a oak tree, he overhears Long John Silver, who is angrily conversing with another man. Frightened, Jim realizes that even though he is scared, he should try to get closer in order to overhear what is happening amongst the pirates. When he gets close enough to hear, he realizes that Silver is trying to persuade a man named Tom to join the pirates. Their conversation, however, is interrupted by an angry cry in the distance and then a scream, something that Jim recognizes is a death cry. Alan, another honest sailor, has been killed by the pirates because he will not convert to their cause. Tom starts to walk away, but Silver reacts very angrily, throwing a tree branch at him which makes him fall to the ground. The one-legged Silver, devoid of his crutch, is still able to swiftly move to Tom and stick him with a knife not once, but twice. Because of the recently-witnessed violence, Jim feels dizzy and like fainting. Finally, Jim comes to his sense and realizes that if he does not escape, he will be the next person that is dead. Silently, Jim crawls into an open space and runs as fast as he can, not paying any attention to where he is going. While he is still escaping, he realizes that there is no possible way to return to the boats because if he does he will certainly be killed. He is in a dilemma, however, because he also realizes that if he doesn't return the pirates will realize that he knows their secret. The chapter ends with Jim's facing a "fresh alarm" with a "thumping heart." Chapter 15 Still terrified from this recent-witness of the murders, Jim catches sight of a dark, shaggy creature and doesn't know if it is a human or an animal. Jim decides that he is more afraid of the creature than of the pirates, and so begins to make his way back to the general directions of the boats. Unfortunately, when he goes to make his retreat, the creature runs and catches up with him. Soon, Jim realizes that he is actually a man and for some reason, that makes him feel a bit better. Realizing that he can protect himself with his pistol, he walks towards the man who falls to his knees before Jim. Jim soon discovers that the man, who is dressed in rags, name is Ben Gunn and that he has been alone on the island for three years, marooned by fellow pirates to live or die. A Christian , Gunn is extremely excited to see another human being and touches Jim and looks at him with pleasure. Finally, he proclaims to Jim that he is extremely rich. Jim explains to Gunn that Flint is dead, and then also tells the strange an the predicament that the honest men on the ship is, facing mutineers led by the dreaded Long John Silver. Scheming, Ben asks that if Jim thinks that the squire will give him a thousand pounds and passage back to civilization if he agrees to help them. Excited, Jim reports that all men who participate will receive a share of the treasure and they will most certainly need men on the return journey. Satisfied with this assurance, Gunn tells the young narrator that he was aboard Flint's ship along with Billy Bones and Long John Silver, and was with them when they buried the treasure. Later, on a different pirate ship, Gunn convinced those with him to land on the deserted island and search for Flint's treasure. After only 12 days, the men quit and left Gunn stranded, with only a musket, spade, and pickaxe. Luckily, Gunn tells Jim that he has built a boat and that they could use it in order to try and get to the Hispanolia after dark. Unfortunately, the roar of a cannon interrupts their conversation, and perceptively, Jim realizes that the fight between the honest men and the pirates has begun. Gunn and Jim head towards the shore, while Gunn shows Jim how to stay beneath the cover of the trees. On the way towards the shore, they pass a cemetery, where Flint has buried his victims. At the conclusion of the chapter, Jim hears some gun shots and then sees that a British flag has been raised on land. Chapter 16 In a break from the rest of the novel, this chapter is narrated by Dr. Livesey. The timeframe of this chapter is the same as the previous chapter, narrated by Jim. He begins his narration by explaining that, although the good men on board wanted to attack the pirates, they could not because Jim was on shore and they could not leave them behind. Instead, the two men, Livesey and Hunter, decide to take a boat to shore and go to a place that is around the bend, and consequently, out of the guards' sight. Exploring the island, Dr. Livesey discovers a stockade, a group of logs that would hold a great number of people . More significantly, whoever controls the house would control the entire island, because of it's vantage on a hill. Another significant advantage of the house is that there is a source of freshwater, of which their is a shortage on the island. While on the island, he hears the death of Alan, and he supposes that Jim has been killed. After their expedition, Hunter and Livesey return to the Hispanolia, and Livesy tells the captain of his newly formulated plan. Redruth, one of the good men, guards the gallery between the cabin and the forecastle, where the six mutineers are standing. Hunter is assigned to man the boat and Livesey and Joyce fill the boat with supplies, food, and medicine. Meanwhile, on deck, the captain warns Israel Hands, the leader of the mutineers on ship, that he or the squire will kill anyone on the shore. By tricking the pirates, he corners them into the bottom of the ship where they stay. Finally, Livesey, Hunter and Joyce return to the shore and stow their supplies in the log cabin. Unfortunately, the pirate guards on shore spot them and one disappears, presumably to warn the others. Leaving Joyce to guard the stockade, Livesey and Hunter return to the ship for another load. They feel safer in the second trip because they have muskets, which will shoot at a longer range than the pistols, the only ammunition that the pirates have. Finally, all six of them leave the ship and the squire and the doctor drop the rest of the arms and ammunition that they cannot transport into the water. Smollett also brings Abraham Gray, whom they believe to be a good man, and Gray agrees. The captain and Gray are the last men on board and the men finally leave for shore. Chapter 17 Unfortunately, the men have a very difficult journey ahead of them and struggle returning to land because the small boat was overloaded and it was going against the tide. Even more dangerous, the current pushed them to come ashore precisely between Silver's two boats. Added to these problems, the captain spots the biggest dilemma of all: Silver's men are removing the tarp from the cannon and they realize they did not destroy the ammunition of the cannon. Trelawney, who claims he is the best shot in the boat, attempts to pick off Hands, but the man moves just as he shoots and another mutineer is wounded. The men barely make it to shore, when their boat is swamped and they are forced to abandon their supplies and all but two of the muskets. As the squire's men race to dry land, they hear voices of the pirates coming closer and fear that Joyce and Hunter, the men who have been left behind in the stockade, will not be able to hold it from the pirates without any support. Chapter 18 Picking up directly where the last chapter left off, the squire's men race desperately for the stockade and encounter six pirates just before they get to their destination. In the ensuing shoot out, one of the pirates gets shot and dies before the rest run off. Before they leave, the pirates shoot Redruth, the squire's gamekeeper, who dies after he is carried into the log house. The squire, finally overcome with grief and fear, breaks down crying. To signal their victory, the captain runs one British flag from the roof and covers Redruth with another, consoling the squire. The next matter of business is to find out when someone would find them. The squire informs the group that no one will come for months, and the captain then tells the group that the food rations are sparse. During this conversation, the cannon continues to blast, sending shot after shot at the blockade but causing no real damage. Trelwaney suggests taking down the flag because it seems to be a target for the enemy but captain insists on leaving it up, claiming it shows the enemy their courage, resolve, and fighting spirit. After the tide went out, the captain sends Gray and Hunter to try to recover any of the lost supplies, but the supplies were already taken by Silver's men. The pirates now are fully armed. Just as the captain writes in his log and tries to speculate on Jim's fate, Jim appears at the stockade, hailing the men and gaining entrance. Chapter 19 The next chapter is again narrated by Jim Hawkins. It begins with Ben Gunn pointing out to the young boy that the British flag is clearly a signal of where his friends are because the pirates would never fly a British flag, but instead a Jolly Roger. After pointing Jim in the right direction, he declines to join him but instead will be available at any time to discuss plans with the doctor or the squire. He concludes his speech to Jim by saying that if the pirates camp on the island, it is "likely that their wives will become windows." When the island starts becoming under attack by the cannons, Jim heads by a circuitous route towards the stockade, the area being hardest hit. Near the shore, just after sunset, Jim observes the Hispaniola flying the Jolly Roger and hears the last of the cannon fire. On the land, he sees a large fire in the distance. Some of the pirates are destroying the boat near the stockade while other pirates are rowing a different boat to the Hispanolia. From their loud voices and actions, Jim is almost positive that these men have been heavily drinking. Finally, Jim makes his way to the fort and finds his friends there. Surprised, they are extremely happy to see him and he tells his side of the story to the men at the fort. After they here the story, the captain differentiates the men into watches, as well as assigning someone to collect firewood and dig a grave. The doctor is assigned cooking and Jim is stationed as a sentry at the door. After Jim and Livesy discuss the situation surrounding Ben Gunn, they decide that the only item that they could afford to give the pirate is a piece of cheese in Livesey's snuff box. The next task that the men accomplish is burying Redruth, after which they eat pork for supper. As they are eating, they realize that because of the shortage of food supplies they will not be able to withstand a long siege by the pirates. Because of this limitation, they realize that they need to kill off any pirate that they can and hope that eventually the pirates will either surrender or simply leave. By their count, fifteen of the nineteen pirates remain, but one is seriously wounded. Their only hope is that, according to the information that Jim provided, the mutineers are drinking heavily, and according to Dr. Livesey, they are camped in a swamp where it is easy to contract malaria without any medicine. When Jim wakes up, he hears someone call "Flag of truce" and learns that Long John Silver himself desires to enter the stockade. Chapter 20 At the beginning of the chapter, two pirates are waving a flag of truce outside the stockade. Cautiously, the captain inquires of what the pirates want. The man who accompanies Silver says "Cap'n Silver" wants to make terms, and Smollett claims he has not heard of "Cap'n Silver." Consequently, Silver explains that after Smollett's "desertion" the men elected Silver captain and he wants Smollett's assurance that he will not be harmed if he enters the stockade. Not happily, the captain agrees to his request. Despite his one leg, Long John Silver aptly maneuvers over the fence and proceeds up the sandy hill. There, however, he experiences much more trouble as his crutch sinks into the sand and he struggles to move. When he finally gets to the top, the captain refuses to let him in to the house, instead, the two negotiate outside. He greets Jim, who has left his post out of curiosity, and Jim discerns from his conversation with Silver that Ben Gunn has killed one of the pirates in the middle of the night. Silver opens the negotiations by saying that he thinks that the pirates should be given the treasure map. In return, he will divide the supplies and take them on the ship and put them at the nearest port, or tell the next ship he sees to come and get them. Smollett, disgusted with Silver's proposal, makes a counter-proposal, claiming that if the pirates come to him unarmed, he will put them in shackles and give them a fair trial. Adding insult to injury, Smollett points out that the pirates are powerless - they don't have the map and they are also on the wrong side of the island, "on a lee shore," the side that is away from the direction in which the wind blows. In conclusion, he orders Silver to leave. As he leaves, no one will give Silver a hand up. Furious, Silver crawls along the sand until he can grasp the porch and then hoist himself up. Retaliating, he spits in the spring water and promises that he will destroy them within an hour, those who die will be the lucky ones. He then departs, but not without extreme difficulty.

