Chapter: 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]

 The landing party reaches the stockade just as a group of seven mutineers appear, led by Job Anderson. The mutineers seem really surprised, so Squire Trelawney, Doctor Livesey, Hunter, and Joyce all have time to fire first. One of the mutineers drops and the rest of them scatter at the gunfire. The landing party is really happy - until a bullet flies out of the trees and hits poor Tom Redruth, Squire Trelawney's loyal gamekeeper. Doctor Livesey can see at once that it's curtains for Redruth. Trelawney is crying like a baby. He asks Redruth for forgiveness. Redruth says there's no need, and that what's meant to happen will happen. Redruth asks them to read a prayer over him, then he passes away. Meanwhile, Captain Smollett is unpacking all the things he brought with him stuffed in his coat: a British flag, a Bible, a coil of rope, pen, ink, the ship's log , and lots of tobacco. Captain Smollett raises the British flag above the fort. He also has an extra flag to spread over Redruth's body. Captain Smollett then pulls Doctor Livesey aside and asks how long they should expect to have to hole up in this fort. Doctor Livesey admits that no one's going to come after them until August Captain Smollett notes that they're in a tough spot - in fact, one good thing about Redruth's death is that they have one fewer mouth to feed. A couple of cannons go over the stockade, but the pirates can't get good aim from the Hispaniola. . Squire Trelawney points out that the pirates are probably aiming for the flag, which is the only thing visible in the forest from the ship. Captain Smollett refuses to lower the flag, and everyone is comforted by his bravery. They start ignoring the cannons going overhead. Captain Smollett says the forest is probably clear of pirates, since they're willing to fire at the trees like this. Captain Smollett suggests that a couple of them go out at night to find what can be recovered of their supplies. Now that the tide has gone out, Captain Smollett hopes that the tiny rowboat will be visible again above the water. Gray and Hunter steal out of the fort to take a look. They find, unfortunately, that the pirates have gotten there first. All the pirates also seem to be armed - apparently, they brought their own weapons aboard the ship, which Captain Smollett was unaware of. Captain Smollett sits down to write a diary entry about the day, including the death of Tom Redruth. Doctor Livesey wonders what has happened to Jim Hawkins. Just then, they hear a voice calling out a greeting. It's none other than Jim, climbing over the fence of the fort.

