Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson (the best electronic book reader .txt) 📕

swabs, was he? Was that you

drinking with him, Morgan? Step up here.”

 

The man whom he called Morgan—an old, grey-haired,

mahogany-faced sailor—came forward pretty sheepishly,

rolling his quid.

 

“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

come 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; but 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 cockerel 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 Dr. 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.

 

“Aye, aye, sir,” cried the cook, in the passage.

 

“Well, squire,” said Dr. Livesey, “I don’t put much

faith in your discoveries, as a general thing; but I

will say this, John Silver suits me.”

 

“The 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,” says squire. “Take your hat,

Hawkins, and we’ll see the ship.”

 

9

 

Powder and Arms

 

THE HISPANIOLA lay some way out, and we went under

the figureheads and round the sterns of many other

ships, and their cables sometimes grated underneath our

keel, and sometimes swung above us. At last, however,

we got 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, even at the risk of offence. 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?” says the squire.

 

But here Dr. 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 Dr. 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 Dr. 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—”