"Mother," said I, "take the whole and let's be going"; for I was sure
the bolted door must have seemed suspicious, and would bring the whole
hornet's nest about our ears; though how thankful I was that I had
bolted it, none could tell who had never met that terrible blind man.

But my mother, frightened as she was, would not consent to take a
fraction more than was due to her, and was obstinately unwilling to be
content with less. It was not yet seven, she said, by a long way; she
knew her rights and she would have them; and she was still arguing with
me, when a little low whistle sounded a good way off upon the hill. That
was enough, and more than enough, for both of us.

"I'll take what I have," she said, jumping to her feet.

"And I'll take this to square the count," said I, picking up the oilskin
packet.

Next moment we were both groping downstairs, leaving the candle by the
empty chest; and the next we had opened the door and were in full
retreat. We had not started a moment too soon. The fog was rapidly
dispersing; already the moon shone quite clear on the high ground on
either side, and it was only in the exact bottom of the dell and round
the tavern door that a thin veil still hung unbroken to conceal the
first steps of our escape. Far less than halfway to the hamlet, very
little beyond the bottom of the hill, we must come forth into the
moonlight. Nor was this all; for the sound of several footsteps running
came already to our ears, and as we looked back in their direction, a
light, tossing to and fro, and still rapidly advancing, showed that one
of the new-comers carried a lantern.

"My dear," said my mother, suddenly, "take the money and run on. I am
going to faint."

This was certainly the end for both of us, I thought. How I cursed the
cowardice of the neighbors! how I blamed my poor mother for her honesty
and her greed, for her past foolhardiness and present weakness! We were
just at the little bridge, by good fortune, and I helped her, tottering
as she was, to the edge of the bank, where, sure enough, she gave a sigh
and fell on my shoulder. I do not know how I found the strength to do it
all, and I am afraid it was roughly done, but I managed to drag her down
the bank and a little way under the arch. Farther I could not move her,
for the bridge was too low to let me do more than crawl below it. So
there we had to stay--my mother almost entirely exposed, and both of us
within earshot of the inn.




CHAPTER V

THE LAST OF THE BLIND MAN


My curiosity, in a sense, was stronger than my fear; for I could not
remain where I was, but crept back to the bank again, whence, sheltering
my head behind a bush of broom, I might command the road before our
door. I was scarcely in position ere my enemies began to arrive, seven
or eight of them, running hard, their feet beating out of time along the
road, and the man with the lantern some paces in front. Three men ran
together, hand in hand; and I made out, even through the mist, that the
middle man of this trio was the blind beggar. The next moment his voice
showed me that I was right.

"Down with the door!" he cried.

"Ay, ay, sir!" answered two or three; and a rush was made upon the
"Admiral Benbow," the lantern-bearer following; and then I could see
them pause, and hear speeches passed in a lower key, as if they were
surprised to find the door open. But the pause was brief, for the blind
man again issued his commands. His voice sounded louder and higher, as
if he were afire with eagerness and rage.

"In, in, in!" he shouted, and cursed them for their delay.

Four or five of them obeyed at once, two remaining on the road with the
formidable beggar. There was a pause, then a cry of surprise, and then
a voice shouting from the house:

"Bill's dead!"

But the blind man swore at them again for their delay.

"Search him, some of you shirking lubbers, and the rest of you aloft and
get the chest," he cried.

I could hear their feet rattling up our old stairs, so that the house
must have shook with it. Promptly afterward fresh sounds of astonishment
arose; the window of the captain's room was thrown open with a slam and
a jingle of broken glass, and a man leaned out into the moonlight, head
and shoulders, and addressed the blind beggar on the road below him.

[Illustration: _"Pew!" he cried, "they've been before us"_ (Page 34)]

"Pew!" he cried, "they've been before us. Someone's turned the chest out
alow and aloft."

"Is it there?" roared Pew.

"The money's there."

The blind man cursed the money.

"Flint's fist, I mean," he cried.

"We don't see it here, nohow," returned the man.

"Here, you below there, is it on Bill?" cried the blind man again.

At that, another fellow, probably he who had remained below to search
the captain's body, came to the door of the inn. "Bill's been overhauled
a'ready," said he, "nothin' left."

"It's these people of the inn--it's that boy. I wish I had put his eyes
out!" cried the blind man, Pew. "They were here no time ago--they had
the door bolted when I tried it. Scatter, lads, and find 'em."

"Sure enough, they left their glim here," said the fellow from the
window.

"Scatter and find 'em! Rout the house out!" reiterated Pew, striking
with his stick upon the road.

Then there followed a great to-do through all our old inn, heavy feet
pounding to and fro, furniture all thrown over, doors kicked in, until
the very rocks re-echoed, and the men came out again, one after another,
on the road, and declared that we were nowhere to be found. And just
then the same whistle that had alarmed my mother and myself over the
dead captain's money was once more clearly audible through the night,
but this time twice repeated. I had thought it to be the blind man's
trumpet, so to speak, summoning his crew to the assault; but I now found
that it was a signal from the hillside toward the hamlet, and, from its
effect upon the buccaneers, a signal to warn them of approaching danger.

"There's Dirk again," said one. "Twice! We'll have to budge, mates."

"Budge, you skulk!" cried Pew. "Dirk was a fool and a coward from the
first--you wouldn't mind him. They must be close by; they can't be far;
you have your hands on it. Scatter and look for them, dogs. Oh, shiver
my soul," he cried, "if I had eyes!"

This appeal seemed to produce some effect, for two of the fellows began
to look here and there among the lumber, but half-heartedly, I thought,
and with half an eye to their own danger all the time, while the rest
stood irresolute on the road.

"You have your hands on thousands, you fools, and you hang a leg! You'd
be as rich as kings if you could find it, and you know it's here, and
you stand there skulking. There wasn't one of you dared face Bill, and I
did it--a blind man! And I'm to lose my chance for you! I'm to be a
poor, crawling beggar, sponging for rum, when I might be rolling in a
coach! If you had the pluck of a weevil in a biscuit, you would catch
them still."

"Hang it, Pew, we've got the doubloons!" grumbled one.

"They might have hid the blessed thing," said another. "Take the
Georges, Pew, and don't stand here squalling."

Squalling was the word for it; Pew's anger rose so high at these
objections; till at last, his passion completely taking the upper hand,
he struck at them right and left in his blindness, and his stick sounded
heavily on more than one.

These, in their turn, cursed back at the blind miscreant, threatened him
in horrid terms, and tried in vain to catch the stick and wrest it from
his grasp.

This quarrel was the saving of us; for while it was still raging,
another sound came from the top of the hill on the side of the
hamlet--the tramp of horses galloping. Almost at the same time a
pistol-shot, flash, and report came from the hedge side. And that was
plainly the last signal of danger, for the buccaneers turned at once and
ran, separating in every direction, one seaward along the cove, one
slant across the hill, and so on, so that in half a minute not a sign of
them remained but Pew. Him they had deserted, whether in sheer panic or
out of revenge for his ill words and blows, I know not; but there he
remained behind, tapping up and down the road in a frenzy, and groping
and calling for his comrades. Finally he took the wrong turn, and ran a
few steps past me, towards the hamlet, crying:

"Johnny, Black Dog, Dirk," and other names, "you won't leave old Pew,
mates--not old Pew?"

Just then the noise of horses topped the rise, and four or five riders
came in sight in the moonlight, and swept at full gallop down the slope.

At this Pew saw his error, turned with a scream, and ran straight for
the ditch, into which he rolled. But he was on his feet again in a
second, and made another dash, now utterly bewildered, right under the
nearest of the coming horses.

The rider tried to save him, but in vain. Down went Pew with a cry that
rang high into the night, and the four hoofs trampled and spurned him
and passed by. He fell on his side, then gently collapsed upon his face,
and moved no more.

I leaped to my feet and hailed the riders. They were pulling up, at any
rate, horrified at the accident, and I soon saw what they were. One,
tailing out behind the rest, was a lad that had gone from the hamlet to
Doctor Livesey's; the rest were revenue officers, whom he had met by the
way, and with whom he had had the intelligence to return at once. Some
news of the lugger in Kitt's Hole had found its way to Supervisor Dance,
and set him forth that night in our direction, and to that circumstance
my mother and I owed our preservation from death.

Pew was dead, stone dead. As for my mother, when we had carried her up
to the hamlet, a little cold water and salts very soon brought her back
again, and she was none the worse for her terror, though she still
continued to deplore the balance of the money.

In the meantime the supervisor rode on, as fast as he could, to Kitt's
Hole; but his men had to dismount and grope down the dingle, leading,
and sometimes supporting, their horses, and in continual fear of
ambushes; so it was no great matter for surprise that when they got
down to the Hole the lugger was already under way, though still close
in. He hailed her. A voice replied, telling him to keep out of the
moonlight, or he would get some lead in him, and at the same time a
bullet whistled close by his arm. Soon after, the lugger doubled the
point and disappeared. Mr. Dance stood there, as he said, "like a fish
out of water," and all he could do was to dispatch a man to B---- to
warn the cutter. "And that," said he, "is just about as good as nothing.
They've got off clean, and there's an end. Only," he added, "I'm glad I
trod on Master Pew's corns"; for by this time he had heard my story.

I went back with him to the "Admiral Benbow," and you cannot imagine a
house in such a state of smash; the very clock had been thrown down by
these fellows in their furious hunt after my mother and myself; and
though nothing had actually been taken away except the captain's
money-bag and a little silver from the till, I could see at once that we
were ruined. Mr. Dance could make nothing of the scene.

"They got the money, you say? Well, then, Hawkins, what in fortune were
they after? More money, I suppose?"

"No, sir; not money, I think," replied I. "In fact, sir, I believe I
have the thing in my breast-pocket; and, to tell you the truth, I should
like to get it put in safety."

"To be sure, boy; quite right," said he. "I'll take it, if you like."

"I thought, perhaps, Doctor Livesey--" I began.

"Perfectly right," he interrupted, very cheerily, "perfectly right--a
gentleman and a magistrate. And, now I come to think of it, I might as
well ride round there myself and report to him or squire. Master Pew's
dead, when all's done; not that I regret it, but he's dead, you see, and
people will make it out against an officer of his Majesty's revenue, if
make it out they can. Now, I'll tell you, Hawkins, if you like, I'll
take you along."

I thanked him heartily for the offer, and we walked back to the hamlet
where the horses were. By the time I had told mother of my purpose they
were all in the saddle.

"Dogger," said Mr. Dance, "you have a good horse; take up this lad
behind you."

As soon as I was mounted, holding on to Dogger's belt, the supervisor
gave the word, and the party struck out at a bouncing trot on the road
to Doctor Livesey's house.

[Illustration]




CHAPTER VI

THE CAPTAIN'S PAPERS


We rode hard all the way, till we drew up before Doctor Livesey's door.
The house was all dark to the front.

Mr. Dance told me to jump down and knock, and Dogger gave me a stirrup
to descend by. The door was opened almost at once by the maid.

"Is Doctor Livesey in?" I asked.

"No," she said. He had come home in the afternoon, but had gone up to
the Hall to dine and pass the evening with the squire.

"So there we go, boys," said Mr. Dance.

This time, as the distance was short, I did not mount, but ran with
Dogger's stirrup-leather to the lodge gates, and up the long, leafless,
moonlit avenue to where the white line of the Hall buildings looked on
either hand on great old gardens. Here Mr. Dance dismounted and, taking
me along with him, was admitted at a word into the house.

The servant led us down a matted passage, and showed us at the end into
a great library, all lined with bookcases and busts upon top of them,
where the squire and Doctor Livesey sat, pipe in hand, on either side of
a bright fire.

I had never seen the squire so near at hand. He was a tall man, over six
feet high, and broad in proportion, and he had a bluff, rough-and-ready
face, all roughened and reddened and lined in his long travels. His
eyebrows were very black, and moved readily, and this gave him a look of
some temper, not bad, you would say, but quick and high.

"Come in, Mr. Dance," said he, very stately and condescending.

"Good evening, Dance," said the doctor, with a nod. "And good evening to
you, friend Jim. What good wind brings you here?"

The supervisor stood up straight and stiff, and told his story like a
lesson; and you should have seen how the two gentlemen leaned forward
and looked at each other, and forgot to smoke in their surprise and
interest. When they heard how my mother went back to the inn, Doctor
Livesey fairly slapped his thigh, and the squire cried "Bravo!" and
broke his long pipe against the grate. Long before it was done, Mr.
Trelawney (that, you will remember, was the squire's name) had got up
from his seat, and was striding about the room, and the doctor, as if to
hear the better, had taken off his powdered wig, and sat there, looking
very strange indeed with his own close-cropped, black poll.

At last Mr. Dance finished the story.

"Mr. Dance," said the squire, "you are a very noble fellow. And as for
riding down that black, atrocious miscreant, I regard it as an act of
virtue, sir, like stamping on a cockroach. This lad Hawkins is a trump,
I perceive. Hawkins, will you ring that bell? Mr. Dance must have some
ale."

"And so, Jim," said the doctor, "you have the thing that they were
after, have you?"

"Here it is, sir," said I, and gave him the oilskin packet.

The doctor looked it all over, as if his fingers were itching to open
it; but, instead of doing that, he put it quietly in the pocket of his
coat.

"Squire," said he, "when Dance has had his ale he must, of course, be
off on his Majesty's service; but I mean to keep Jim Hawkins here to
sleep at my house, and, with your permission, I propose we should have
up the cold pie, and let him sup."

"As you will, Livesey," said the squire; "Hawkins has earned better than
cold pie."

So a big pigeon pie was brought in and put on a side-table, and I made a
hearty supper, for I was as hungry as a hawk, while Mr. Dance was
further complimented, and at last dismissed.

"And now, squire," said the doctor.

"And now, Livesey," said the squire, in the same breath.

"One at a time, one at a time," laughed Doctor Livesey. "You have heard
of this Flint, I suppose?"

"Heard of him!" cried the squire. "Heard of him, you say! He was the
blood-thirstiest buccaneer that sailed. Blackbeard was a child to Flint.
The Spaniards were so prodigiously afraid of him that, I tell you, sir,
I was sometimes proud he was an Englishman. I've seen his topsails with
these eyes, off Trinidad, and the cowardly son of a rum-puncheon that I
sailed with put back--put back, sir, into Port of Spain."

"Well, I've heard of him myself, in England," said the doctor. "But the
point is, had he money?"

"Money!" cried the squire. "Have you heard the story? What were these
villains after but money? What do they care for but money? For what
would they risk their rascal carcasses but money?"

"That we shall soon know," replied the doctor. "But you are so
confoundedly hot-headed and exclamatory that I cannot get a word in.
What I want to know is this: Supposing that I have here in my pocket
some clue to where Flint buried his treasure, will that treasure amount
to much?"

"Amount, sir!" cried the squire. "It will amount to this: If we have the
clue you talk about, I'll fit out a ship in Bristol dock, and take you
and Hawkins here along, and I'll have that treasure if I search a year."

"Very well," said the doctor. "Now, then, if Jim is agreeable, we'll
open the packet," and he laid it before him on the table.

The bundle was sewn together, and the doctor had to get out his
instrument case and cut the stitches with his medical scissors. It
contained two things--a book and a sealed paper.

"First of all we'll try the book," observed the doctor.

The squire and I were both peering over his shoulder as he opened it,
for Doctor Livesey had kindly motioned me to come round from the
side-table, where I had been eating, to enjoy the sport of the search.
On the first page there were only some scraps of writing, such as a man
with a pen in his hand might make for idleness or practice. One was the
same as the tattoo mark, "Billy Bones his fancy"; then there was "Mr. W.
Bones, mate," "No more rum," "Off Palm Key he got itt," and some other
snatches, mostly single words and unintelligible. I could not help
wondering who it was that had "got itt," and what "itt" was that he got.
A knife in his back as like as not.

"Not much instruction there," said Doctor Livesey, as he passed on.

The next ten or twelve pages were filled with a curious series of
entries. There was a date at one end of the line and at the other a sum
of money, as in common account-books; but instead of explanatory
writing, only a varying number of crosses between the two. On the 12th
of June, 1745, for instance, a sum of seventy pounds had plainly become
due to someone, and there was nothing but six crosses to explain the
cause. In a few cases, to be sure, the name of a place would be added,
as "Offe Caraccas"; or a mere entry of latitude and longitude, as "62В°
17' 20", 19В° 2' 40"."

The record lasted over nearly twenty years, the amount of the separate
entries growing larger as time went on, and at the end a grand total had
been made out, after five or six wrong additions, and these words
appended, "Bones, his pile."

"I can't make head or tail of this," said Doctor Livesey.

"The thing is as clear as noonday," cried the squire. "This is the
black-hearted hound's account-book. These crosses stand for the names of
ships or towns that they sank or plundered. The sums are the scoundrel's
share, and where he feared an ambiguity, you see he added something
clearer. 'Offe Caraccas,' now; you see, here was some unhappy vessel
boarded off that coast. God help the poor souls that manned her--coral
long ago."

"Right!" said the doctor. "See what it is to be a traveler. Right! And
the amounts increase, you see, as he rose in rank."

There was little else in the volume but a few bearings of places noted
in the blank leaves toward the end, and a table for reducing French,
English, and Spanish moneys to a common value.

"Thrifty man!" cried the doctor. "He wasn't the one to be cheated."

"And now," said the squire, "for the other."

The paper had been sealed in several places with a thimble by way of
seal; the very thimble, perhaps, that I had found in the captain's
pocket. The doctor opened the seals with great care, and there fell out
the map of an island, with latitude and longitude, soundings, names of
hills and bays and inlets, and every particular that would be needed to
bring a ship to a safe anchorage upon its shores. It was about nine
miles long and five across, shaped, you might say, like a fat dragon
standing up, and had two fine landlocked harbors, and a hill in the
center part marked "The Spy-glass." There were several additions of a
later date; but, above all, three crosses of red ink--two on the north
part of the island, one in the southwest, and, beside this last, in the
same red ink, and in a small, neat hand, very different from the
captain's tottery characters, these words: "Bulk of treasure here."

Over on the back the same hand had written this further information:

    "Tall tree, Spy-glass shoulder, bearing a point to the N. of N.N.E.

    "Skeleton Island E.S.E. and by E.

    "Ten feet.

    "The bar silver is in the north cache; you can find it by the trend
    of the east hummock, ten fathoms south of the black crag with the
    face on it.

    "The arms are easy found, in the sandhill, N. point of north inlet
    cape, bearing E. and a quarter N.

                                                                 "J. F."

That was all, but brief as it was, and, to me, incomprehensible, it
filled the squire and Doctor Livesey with delight.

"Livesey," said the squire, "you will give up this wretched practice at
once. To-morrow I start for Bristol. In three weeks' time--three
weeks!--two weeks--ten days--we'll have the best ship, sir, and the
choicest crew in England. Hawkins shall come as cabin-boy. You'll make a
famous cabin-boy, Hawkins. You, Livesey, are ship's doctor; I am
admiral. We'll take Redruth, Joyce, and Hunter. We'll have favorable
winds, a quick passage, and not the least difficulty in finding the
spot, and money to eat--to roll in--to play duck and drake with ever
after."

"Trelawney," said the doctor, "I'll go with you; and I'll go bail for
it, so will Jim, and be a credit to the undertaking. There's only one
man I'm afraid of."

"And who's that?" cried the squire. "Name the dog, sir!"

"You," replied the doctor, "for you cannot hold your tongue. We are not
the only men who know of this paper. These fellows who attacked the inn
to-night--bold, desperate blades, for sure--and the rest who stayed
aboard that lugger, and more, I dare say, not far off, are, one and all,
through thick and thin, bound that they'll get that money. We must none
of us go alone till we get to sea. Jim and I shall stick together in the
meanwhile; you'll take Joyce and Hunter when you ride to Bristol, and,
from first to last, not one of us must breathe a word of what we've
found."

"Livesey," returned the squire, "you are always in the right of it. I'll
be as silent as the grave."




PART II

THE SEA-COOK




CHAPTER VII

I GO TO BRISTOL


It was longer than the squire imagined ere we were ready for the sea,
and none of our first plans--not even Doctor Livesey's, of keeping me
beside him--could be carried out as we intended. The doctor had to go to
London for a physician to take charge of his practice; the squire was
hard at work at Bristol; and I lived on at the Hall under the charge of
old Redruth, the gamekeeper, almost a prisoner, but full of sea-dreams
and the most charming anticipations of strange islands and adventures. I
brooded by the hour together over the map, all the details of which I
well remembered. Sitting by the fire in the housekeeper's room, I
approached that island, in my fancy, from every possible direction; I
explored every acre of its surface; I climbed a thousand times to that
tall hill they call the Spy-glass, and from the top enjoyed the most
wonderful and changing prospects. Sometimes the isle was thick with
savages, with whom we fought; sometimes full of dangerous animals that
hunted us; but in all my fancies nothing occurred to me so strange and
tragic as our actual adventures.

So the weeks passed on, till one fine day there came a letter addressed
to Doctor Livesey, with this addition, "To be opened in the case of his
absence, by Tom Redruth or Young Hawkins." Obeying this order, we found,
or rather I found--for the gamekeeper was a poor hand at reading
anything but print--the following important news:

                              "_Old Anchor Inn, Bristol, March 1, 17--._

    "DEAR LIVESEY: As I do not know whether you are at the Hall or still
    in London, I send this in double to both places.

    "The ship is bought and fitted. She lies at anchor, ready for sea.
    You never imagined a sweeter schooner--a child might sail her--two
    hundred tons; name, _Hispaniola_.

    "I got her through my old friend, Blandly, who has proved himself
    throughout the most surprising trump. The admirable fellow literally
    slaved in my interest, and so, I may say, did every one in Bristol,
    as soon as they got wind of the port we sailed for--treasure, I
    mean."

"Redruth," said I, interrupting the letter, "Doctor Livesey will not
like that. The squire has been talking, after all."

"Well, who's a better right?" growled the gamekeeper. "A pretty rum go
if Squire ain't to talk for Doctor Livesey, I should think."

At that I gave up all attempt at commentary, and read straight on:

    "Blandly himself found the _Hispaniola_, and by the most admirable
    management got her for the merest trifle. There is a class of men in
    Bristol monstrously prejudiced against Blandly. They go the length
    of declaring that this honest creature would do anything for money;
    that the _Hispaniola_ belonged to him, and that he sold to me
    absurdly high--the most transparent calumnies. None of them dare,
    however, to deny the merits of the ship.

    "So far there was not a hitch. The workpeople, to be sure--riggers
    and what not--were most annoyingly slow, but time cured that. It was
    the crew that troubled me.

    "I wished a round score of men--in case of natives, buccaneers, or
    the odious French--and I had the worry of the deuce itself to find
    so much as half a dozen, till the most remarkable stroke of fortune
    brought me the very man that I required.

    "I was standing on the dock, when, by the merest accident, I fell in
    talk with him. I found he was an old sailor, kept a public house,
    knew all the seafaring men in Bristol, had lost his health ashore,
    and wanted a good berth as cook to get to sea again. He had hobbled
    down there that morning, he said, to get a smell of the salt.

    "I was monstrously touched--so would you have been--and, out of pure
    pity, I engaged him on the spot to be ship's cook. Long John Silver
    he is called, and has lost a leg; but that I regarded as a
    recommendation, since he lost it in his country's service, under the
    immortal Hawke. He has no pension, Livesey. Imagine the abominable
    age we live in!

    "Well, sir, I thought I had only found a cook, but it was a crew I
    had discovered. Between Silver and myself we got together in a few
    days a company of the toughest old salts imaginable--not pretty to
    look at, but fellows, by their faces, of the most indomitable
    spirit. I declare we could fight a frigate.

    "Long John even got rid of two out of the six or seven I had already
    engaged. He showed me in a moment that they were just the sort of
    fresh-water swabs we had to fear in an adventure of importance.

    "I am in the most magnificent health and spirits, eating like a
    bull, sleeping like a tree, yet I shall not enjoy a moment till I
    hear my old tarpaulins tramping round the capstan. Seaward ho! Hang
    the treasure! It's the glory of the sea that has turned my head. So
    now, Livesey, come post; do not lose an hour, if you respect me.

    "Let young Hawkins go at once to see his mother, with Redruth for a
    guard, and then both come full speed to Bristol.

                                                        "JOHN TRELAWNEY.

    "P.S.--I did not tell you that Blandly, who, by the way, is to send
    a consort after us if we don't turn up by the end of August, had
    found an admirable fellow for sailing-master--a stiff man, which I
    regret, but, in all other respects, a treasure. Long John Silver
    unearthed a very competent man for a mate, a man named Arrow. I have
    a boatswain who pipes, Livesey; so things shall go man-o'-war
    fashion on board the good ship _Hispaniola_.

    "I forgot to tell you that Silver is a man of substance; I know of
    my own knowledge that he has a banker's account, which has never
    been overdrawn. He leaves his wife to manage the inn; and as she is
    a woman of color, a pair of old bachelors like you and I may be
    excused for guessing that it is the wife, quite as much as the
    health, that sends him back to roving.

                                                                  "J. T.

    "P.P.S.--Hawkins may stay one night with his mother.

                                                                 "J. T."

You can fancy the excitement into which that letter put me. I was half
beside myself with glee, and if ever I despised a man, it was old Tom
Redruth, who could do nothing but grumble and lament. Any of the
under-gamekeepers would gladly have changed places with him; but such
was not the squire's pleasure, and the squire's pleasure was like law
among them all. Nobody but old Redruth would have dared so much as even
to grumble.

The next morning he and I set out on foot for the "Admiral Benbow," and
there I found my mother in good health and spirits. The captain, who had
so long been a cause of so much discomfort, was gone where the wicked
cease from troubling. The squire had had everything repaired, and the
public rooms and the sign repainted, and had added some furniture--above
all a beautiful armchair for mother in the bar. He had found her a boy
as an apprentice also, so that she should not want help while I was
gone.

It was on seeing that boy that I understood, for the first time, my
situation. I had thought up to that moment of the adventures before me,
not at all of the home that I was leaving; and now at sight of this
clumsy stranger, who was to stay here in my place beside my mother, I
had my first attack of tears. I am afraid I led that boy a dog's life;
for as he was new to the work, I had a hundred opportunities of setting
him right and putting him down, and I was not slow to profit by them.

The night passed, and the next day, after dinner, Redruth and I were
afoot again and on the road. I said good-by to mother and the cove where
I had lived since I was born, and the dear old "Admiral Benbow"--since
he was repainted, no longer quite so dear. One of my last thoughts was
of the captain, who had so often strode along the beach with his cocked
hat, his saber-cut cheek, and his old brass telescope. Next moment we
had turned the corner, and my home was out of sight.

The mail picked us up about dusk at the "Royal George" on the heath. I
was wedged in between Redruth and a stout old gentleman, and in spite of
the swift motion and the cold night air, I must have dozed a great deal
from the very first, and then slept like a log up hill and down dale,
through stage after stage; for when I was awakened at last, it was by a
punch in the ribs, and I opened my eyes to find that we were standing
still before a large building in a city street, and that the day had
already broken a long time.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"Bristol," said Tom. "Get down."

Mr. Trelawney had taken up his residence at an inn far down the docks,
to superintend the work upon the schooner. Thither we had now to walk,
and our way, to my great delight, lay along the quays and beside the
great multitude of ships of all sizes and rigs and nations. In one,
sailors were singing at their work; in another, there were men aloft,
high over my head, hanging to threads that seemed no thicker than a
spider's. Though I had lived by the shore all my life, I seemed never to
have been near the sea till then. The smell of tar and salt was
something new. I saw the most wonderful figureheads, that had all been
far over the ocean. I saw, besides, many old sailors, with rings in
their ears, and whiskers curled in ringlets, and tarry pig-tails, and
their swaggering, clumsy sea-walk; and if I had seen as many kings or
archbishops I could not have been more delighted.

And I was going to sea myself; to sea in a schooner, with a piping
boatswain, and pig-tailed singing seamen; to sea, bound for an unknown
island, and to seek for buried treasure.

While I was still in this delightful dream, we came suddenly in front of
a large inn, and met Squire Trelawney, all dressed out like a sea
officer, in stout blue cloth, coming out of the door with a smile on his
face, and a capital imitation of a sailor's walk.

"Here you are!" he cried; "and the doctor came last night from London.
Bravo!--the ship's company complete."

"Oh, sir," cried I, "when do we sail?"

"Sail!" says he. "We sail to-morrow."




CHAPTER VIII

AT THE SIGN OF THE "SPY-GLASS"


When I had done breakfasting, the squire gave me a note addressed to
John Silver, at the sign of the "Spy-glass," and told me I should easily
find the place by following the line of the docks, and keeping a bright
lookout for a little tavern with a large brass telescope for a sign. I
set off, overjoyed at this opportunity to see some more of the ships and
seamen, and picked my way among a great crowd of people and carts and
bales, for the dock was now at its busiest, until I found the tavern in
question.

It was a bright enough little place of entertainment. The sign was newly
painted; the windows had neat red curtains; the floor was cleanly
sanded. There was a street on each side, and an open door on both, which
made the large, low room pretty clear to see in, in spite of clouds of
tobacco smoke.

The customers were mostly seafaring men, and they talked so loudly that
I hung at the door, almost afraid to enter.

As I was waiting, a man came out of a side room, and at a glance I was
sure he must be Long John. His left leg was cut off close by the hip,
and under the left shoulder he carried a crutch, which he managed with
wonderful dexterity, hopping about upon it like a bird. He was very tall
and strong, with a face as big as a ham--plain and pale, but
intelligent and smiling. Indeed, he seemed in the most cheerful spirits,
whistling as he moved about among the tables, with a merry word or a
slap on the shoulder for the more favored of his guests.

Now, to tell you the truth, from the very first mention of Long John in
Squire Trelawney's letter, I had taken a fear in my mind that he might
prove to be the very one-legged sailor whom I had watched for so long at
the old "Benbow." But one look at the man before me was enough. I had
seen the captain, and Black Dog, and the blind man Pew, and I thought I
knew what a buccaneer was like--a very different creature, according to
me, from this clean and pleasant-tempered landlord.

I plucked up courage at once, crossed the threshold, and walked right up
to the man where he stood, propped on his crutch, talking to a customer.

"Mr. Silver, sir?" I asked, holding out the note.

"Yes, my lad," said he; "such is my name, to be sure. And who may you
be?" And when he saw the squire's letter he seemed to me to give
something almost like a start.

"Oh!" said he, quite aloud, and offering his hand, "I see. You are our
new cabin-boy; pleased I am to see you."

And he took my hand in his large firm grasp.

Just then one of the customers at the far side rose suddenly and made
for the door. It was close by him, and he was out in the street in a
moment. But his hurry had attracted my notice, and I recognized him at a
glance. It was the tallow-faced man, wanting two fingers, who had come
first to the "Admiral Benbow."

"Oh," I cried, "stop him! it's Black Dog!"

"I don't care two coppers who he is," cried Silver, "but he hasn't paid
his score. Harry, run and catch him."

One of the others who was nearest the door leaped up and started in
pursuit.

"If he were Admiral Hawke he shall pay his score," cried Silver; and
then, relinquishing my hand, "Who did you say he was?" he asked. "Black
what?"

"Dog, sir," said I. "Has Mr. Trelawney not told you of the buccaneers?
He was one of them."

"So?" cried Silver. "In my house! Ben, run and help Harry. One of those
swabs, was he? Was that you drinking with him, Morgan? Step up here."

The man whom he called Morgan--an old, gray-haired, mahogany-faced
sailor--came forward pretty sheepishly, rolling his quid.

[Illustration: _"Now, Morgan," said Long John, very sternly, "you never
clapped your eyes on that Black Dog before, did you, now?"_ (Page 57)]

"Now, Morgan," said Long John, very sternly, "you never clapped your
eyes on that Black--Black Dog before, did you, now?"

"Not I, sir," said Morgan, with a salute.

"You didn't know his name, did you?"

"No, sir."

"By the powers, Tom Morgan, it's as good for you!" exclaimed the
landlord. "If you had been mixed up with the like of that, you would
never have put another foot in my house, you may lay to that. And what
was he saying to you?"

"I don't rightly know, sir," answered Morgan.

"Do you call that a head on your shoulders, or a blessed dead-eye?"
cried Long John. "Don't rightly know, don't you? Perhaps you don't
happen to rightly know who you was speaking to, perhaps? Come, now,
what was he jawing--v'yages, cap'ns, ships? Pipe up! What was it?"

"We was a-talkin' of keel-hauling," answered Morgan.

"Keel-hauling, was you? and a mighty suitable thing, too, and you may
lay to that. Get back to your place for a lubber, Tom."

And then, as Morgan rolled back to his seat, Silver added to me, in a
confidential whisper, that was very flattering, as I thought:

"He's quite an honest man, Tom Morgan, on'y stupid. And now," he ran on
again, aloud, "let's see--Black Dog? No, I don't know the name, not I.
Yet I kind of think I've--yes, I've seen the swab. He used to come here
with a blind beggar, he used."

"That he did, you may be sure," said I. "I knew that blind man, too. His
name was Pew."

"It was!" cried Silver, now quite excited. "Pew! That were his name for
certain. Ah, he looked a shark, he did! If we run down this Black Dog
now, there'll be news for Cap'n Trelawney! Ben's a good runner; few
seamen run better than Ben. He should run him down, hand over hand, by
the powers! He talked o' keel-hauling, did he? _I'll_ keel-haul him!"

All the time he was jerking out these phrases he was stumping up and
down the tavern on his crutch, slapping tables with his hand, and giving
such a show of excitement as would have convinced an Old Bailey judge or
a Bow Street runner. My suspicions had been thoroughly reawakened on
finding Black Dog at the "Spy-glass," and I watched the cook narrowly.
But he was too deep, and too ready, and too clever for me, and by the
time the two men had come back out of breath, and confessed that they
had lost the track in a crowd, and been scolded like thieves, I would
have gone bail for the innocence of Long John Silver.

"See here, now, Hawkins," said he, "here's a blessed hard thing on a man
like me, now, ain't it? There's Cap'n Trelawney--what's he to think?
Here I have this confounded son of a Dutchman sitting in my own house,
drinking of my own rum! Here you comes and tells me of it plain; and
here I let him give us all the slip before my blessed deadlights! Now,
Hawkins, you do me justice with the cap'n. You're a lad, you are, but
you're as smart as paint. I see that when you first came in. Now, here
it is: What could I do, with this old timber I hobble on? When I was an
A B master mariner I'd have come up alongside of him, hand over hand,
and broached him to in a brace of old shakes, I would; and now--"

And then, all of a sudden, he stopped, and his jaw dropped as though he
had remembered something.

"The score!" he burst out. "Three goes o' rum! Why, shiver my timbers,
if I hadn't forgotten my score!"

And, falling on a bench, he laughed until the tears ran down his cheeks.
I could not help joining, and we laughed together, peal after peal,
until the tavern rang again.

"Why, what a precious old sea-calf I am!" he said, at last, wiping his
cheeks. "You and me should get on well, Hawkins, for I'll take my davy I
should be rated ship's boy. But, come, now, stand by to go about. This
won't do. Dooty is dooty, messmates. I'll put on my old cocked hat and
step along of you to Cap'n Trelawney, and report this here affair. For,
mind you, it's serious, young Hawkins; and neither you nor me's come out
of it with what I should make so bold as to call credit. Nor you
neither, says you; not smart--none of the pair of us smart. But dash my
buttons! that was a good 'un about my score."

And he began to laugh again, and that so heartily, that though I did not
see the joke as he did, I was again obliged to join him in his mirth.

On our little walk along the quays he made himself the most interesting
companion, telling me about the different ships that we passed by, their
rig, tonnage, and nationality, explaining the work that was going
forward--how one was discharging, another taking in cargo, and a third
making ready for sea; and every now and then telling me some little
anecdote of ships or seamen, or repeating a nautical phrase till I had
learned it perfectly. I began to see that here was one of the best of
possible shipmates.

When we got to the inn, the squire and Doctor Livesey were seated
together, finishing a quart of ale with a toast in it, before they
should go aboard the schooner on a visit of inspection.

Long John told the story from first to last, with a great deal of spirit
and the most perfect truth. "That was how it were, now, weren't it,
Hawkins?" he would say, now and again, and I could always bear him
entirely out.

The two gentlemen regretted that Black Dog had got away, but we all
agreed there was nothing to be done, and after he had been complimented,
Long John took up his crutch and departed.

"All hands aboard by four this afternoon!" shouted the squire after him.

"Ay, ay, sir," cried the cook, in the passage.

"Well, squire," said Doctor Livesey, "I don't put much faith in your
discoveries, as a general thing, but I will say this--John Silver suits
me."

"That man's a perfect trump," declared the squire.

"And now," added the doctor, "Jim may come on board with us, may he
not?"

"To be sure he may," said the squire. "Take your hat, Hawkins, and we'll
see the ship."

[Illustration]




CHAPTER IX

POWDER AND ARMS


The _Hispaniola_ lay some way out, and we went under the figureheads and
around the sterns of many other ships, and their cables sometimes grated
beneath our keel, and sometimes swung above us. At last, however, we
swung alongside, and were met and saluted as we stepped aboard by the
mate, Mr. Arrow, a brown old sailor, with earrings in his ears and a
squint. He and the squire were very thick and friendly, but I soon
observed that things were not the same between Mr. Trelawney and the
captain.

This last was a sharp-looking man, who seemed angry with everything on
board, and was soon to tell us why, for we had hardly got down into the
cabin when a sailor followed us.

"Captain Smollett, sir, axing to speak with you," said he.

"I am always at the captain's orders. Show him in," said the squire.

The captain, who was close behind his messenger, entered at once, and
shut the door behind him.

"Well, Captain Smollett, what have you to say? All well, I hope; all
shipshape and seaworthy?"

"Well, sir," said the captain, "better speak plain, I believe, at the
risk of offense. I don't like this cruise; I don't like the men; and I
don't like my officer. That's short and sweet."

"Perhaps, sir, you don't like the ship?" inquired the squire, very
angry, as I could see.

"I can't speak as to that, sir, not having seen her tried," said the
captain. "She seems a clever craft; more I can't say."

"Possibly, sir, you may not like your employer, either?" said the
squire.

But here Doctor Livesey cut in.

"Stay a bit," said he, "stay a bit. No use of such questions as that but
to produce ill-feeling. The captain has said too much or he has said too
little, and I'm bound to say that I require an explanation of his words.
You don't, you say, like this cruise. Now, why?"

"I was engaged, sir, on what we call sealed orders, to sail this ship
for that gentleman where he should bid me," said the captain. "So far so
good. But now I find that every man before the mast knows more than I
do. I don't call that fair, now, do you?"

"No," said Doctor Livesey, "I don't."

"Next," said the captain, "I learn we are going after treasure--hear it
from my own hands, mind you. Now, treasure is ticklish work; I don't
like treasure voyages on any account; and I don't like them, above all,
when they are secret, and when (begging your pardon, Mr. Trelawney) the
secret has been told to the parrot."

"Silver's parrot?" asked the squire.

"It's a way of speaking," said the captain. "Blabbed, I mean. It's my
belief neither of you gentlemen know what you are about; but I'll tell
you my way of it--life or death, and a close run."

"That is all clear, and, I dare say, true enough," replied Doctor
Livesey. "We take the risk, but we are not so ignorant as you believe
us. Next, you say you don't like the crew. Are they not good seamen?"

"I don't like them, sir," returned Captain Smollett. "And I think I
should have had the choosing of my own hands, if you go to that."

"Perhaps you should," replied the doctor. "My friend should, perhaps,
have taken you along with him; but the slight, if there be one, was
unintentional. And you don't like Mr. Arrow?"

"I don't, sir. I believe he's a good seaman, but he's too free with
the crew to be a good officer. A mate should keep himself to
himself--shouldn't drink with the men before the mast."

"Do you mean he drinks?" cried the squire.

"No, sir," replied the captain; "only that he's too familiar."

"Well, now, and the short and long of it, captain?" asked the doctor.
"Tell us what you want."

"Well, gentlemen, are you determined to go on this cruise?"

"Like iron," answered the squire.

"Very good," said the captain. "Then, as you've heard me very patiently,
saying things that I could not prove, hear me a few words more. They are
putting the powder and the arms in the fore hold. Now, you have a good
place under the cabin; why not put them there?--first point. Then you
are bringing four of your own people with you, and they tell me some of
them are to be berthed forward. Why not give them the berths here beside
the cabin?--second point."

"Any more?" asked Mr. Trelawney.

"One more," said the captain. "There's been too much blabbing already."

"Far too much," agreed the doctor.

"I'll tell you what I've heard myself," continued Captain Smollett;
"that you have a map of an island; that there's crosses on the map to
show where treasure is; and that the island lies--" And then he named
the latitude and longitude exactly.

"I never told that," cried the squire, "to a soul."

"The hands know it, sir," returned the captain.

"Livesey, that must have been you or Hawkins," cried the squire.

"It doesn't much matter who it was," replied the doctor. And I could see
that neither he nor the captain paid much regard to Mr. Trelawney's
protestations. Neither did I, to be sure, he was so loose a talker; yet
in this case I believe he was really right, and that nobody had told the
situation of the island.

"Well, gentlemen," continued the captain, "I don't know who has this
map, but I make it a point it shall be kept secret even from me and Mr.
Arrow. Otherwise I would ask you to let me resign."

"I see," said the doctor. "You wish us to keep this matter dark, and to
make a garrison of the stern part of the ship, manned with my friend's
own people, and provided with all the arms and powder on board. In other
words, you fear a mutiny."

"Sir," said Captain Smollett, "with no intention to take offense, I deny
your right to put words into my mouth. No captain, sir, would be
justified in going to sea at all if he had ground enough to say that. As
for Mr. Arrow, I believe him thoroughly honest; some of the men are the
same; all may be for what I know. But I am responsible for the ship's
safety and the life of every man Jack aboard of her. I see things going,
as I think, not quite right; and I ask you to take certain precautions,
or let me resign my berth. And that's all."

"Captain Smollett," began the doctor, with a smile, "did ever you hear
the fable of the mountain and the mouse? You'll excuse me, I dare say,
but you remind me of that fable. When you came in here I'll stake my wig
you meant more than this."

"Doctor," said the captain, "you are smart. When I came in here I meant
to get discharged. I had no thought that Mr. Trelawney would hear a
word."

"No more I would," cried the squire. "Had Livesey not been here I should
have seen you to the deuce. As it is, I have heard you. I will do as you
desire, but I think the worse of you."

"That's as you please, sir," said the captain. "You'll find I do my
duty."

And with that he took his leave.

"Trelawney," said the doctor, "contrary to all my notions, I believe you
have managed to get two honest men on board with you--that man and John
Silver."

"Silver, if you like," cried the squire, "but as for that intolerable
humbug, I declare I think his conduct unmanly, unsailorly, and downright
un-English."

"Well," said the doctor, "we shall see."