ISLAND TALES: The Mysterious Island & Treasure Island. Robert Louis Stevenson

But I see you was the right sort. I says to myself, you stand by Hawkins, John, and Hawkins’ll stand by you. You’re his last card, and by the living thunder, John, he’s yours! Back to back, says I. You save your witness, and he’ll save your neck!”

      I began dimly to understand.

      “You mean all’s lost?” I asked.

      “Aye, by gum, I do!” he answered. “Ship gone, neck gone—that’s the size of it. Once I looked into that bay, Jim Hawkins, and seen no schooner—well, I’m tough, but I gave out. As for that lot and their council, mark me, they’re outright fools and cowards. I’ll save your life—if so be as I can—from them. But, see here, Jim—tit for tat—you save Long John from swinging.”

      I was bewildered; it seemed a thing so hopeless he was asking—he, the old buccaneer, the ringleader throughout.

      “What I can do, that I’ll do,” I said.

      “It’s a bargain!” cried Long John. “You speak up plucky, and by thunder, I’ve a chance!”

      He hobbled to the torch, where it stood propped among the firewood, and took a fresh light to his pipe.

      “Understand me, Jim,” he said, returning. “I’ve a head on my shoulders, I have. I’m on squire’s side now. I know you’ve got that ship safe somewheres. How you done it, I don’t know, but safe it is. I guess Hands and O’Brien turned soft. I never much believed in neither of them. Now you mark me. I ask no questions, nor I won’t let others. I know when a game’s up, I do; and I know a lad that’s staunch. Ah, you that’s young—you and me might have done a power of good together!”

      He drew some cognac from the cask into a tin cannikin.

      “Will you taste, messmate?” he asked; and when I had refused: “Well, I’ll take a drain myself, Jim,” said he. “I need a caulker, for there’s trouble on hand. And talking o’ trouble, why did that doctor give me the chart, Jim?”

      My face expressed a wonder so unaffected that he saw the needlessness of further questions.

      “Ah, well, he did, though,” said he. “And there’s something under that, no doubt—something, surely, under that, Jim—bad or good.”

      And he took another swallow of the brandy, shaking his great fair head like a man who looks forward to the worst.

      Chapter 2 The Black Spot Again

      The council of buccaneers had lasted some time, when one of them re-entered the house, and with a repetition of the same salute, which had in my eyes an ironical air, begged for a moment’s loan of the torch. Silver briefly agreed, and this emissary retired again, leaving us together in the dark.

      “There’s a breeze coming, Jim,” said Silver, who had by this time adopted quite a friendly and familiar tone.

      I turned to the loophole nearest me and looked out. The embers of the great fire had so far burned themselves out and now glowed so low and duskily that I understood why these conspirators desired a torch. About half-way down the slope to the stockade, they were collected in a group; one held the light, another was on his knees in their midst, and I saw the blade of an open knife shine in his hand with varying colours in the moon and torchlight. The rest were all somewhat stooping, as though watching the manoeuvres of this last. I could just make out that he had a book as well as a knife in his hand, and was still wondering how anything so incongruous had come in their possession when the kneeling figure rose once more to his feet and the whole party began to move together towards the house.

      “Here they come,” said I; and I returned to my former position, for it seemed beneath my dignity that they should find me watching them.

      “Well, let ‘em come, lad—let ‘em come,” said Silver cheerily. “I’ve still a shot in my locker.”

      The door opened, and the five men, standing huddled together just inside, pushed one of their number forward. In any other circumstances it would have been comical to see his slow advance, hesitating as he set down each foot, but holding his closed right hand in front of him.

      “Step up, lad,” cried Silver. “I won’t eat you. Hand it over, lubber. I know the rules, I do; I won’t hurt a depytation.” Thus encouraged, the buccaneer stepped forth more briskly, and having passed something to Silver, from hand to hand, slipped yet more smartly back again to his companions.

      The sea-cook looked at what had been given him.

      “The black spot! I thought so,” he observed. “Where might you have got the paper? Why, hillo! Look here, now; this ain’t lucky! You’ve gone and cut this out of a Bible. What fool’s cut a Bible?”

      “Ah, there!” said Morgan. “There! Wot did I say? No good’ll come o’ that, I said.”

      “Well, you’ve about fixed it now, among you,” continued Silver. “You’ll all swing now, I reckon. What soft-headed lubber had a Bible?”

      “It was Dick,” said one.

      “Dick, was it? Then Dick can get to prayers,” said Silver. “He’s seen his slice of luck, has Dick, and you may lay to that.” But here the long man with the yellow eyes struck in.

      “Belay that talk, John Silver,” he said. “This crew has tipped you the black spot in full council, as in dooty bound; just you turn it over, as in dooty bound, and see what’s wrote there. Then you can talk.”

      “Thanky, George,” replied the sea-cook. “You always was brisk for business, and has the rules by heart, George, as I’m pleased to see. Well, what is it, anyway? Ah! ‘Deposed’—that’s it, is it? Very pretty wrote, to be sure; like print, I swear. Your hand o’ write, George? Why, you was gettin’ quite a leadin’ man in this here crew. You’ll be cap’n next, I shouldn’t wonder. Just oblige me with that torch again, will you? This pipe don’t draw.”

      “Come, now,” said George, “you don’t fool this crew no more. You’re a funny man, by your account; but you’re over now, and you’ll maybe step down off that barrel and help vote.”

      “I thought you said you knowed the rules,” returned Silver contemptuously. “Leastways, if you don’t, I do; and I wait here—and I’m still your cap’n, mind—till you outs with your grievances and I reply; in the meantime, your black spot ain’t worth a biscuit. After that, we’ll see.”

      “Oh,” replied George, “you don’t be under no kind of apprehension; we’re all square, we are. First, you’ve made a hash of this cruise—you’ll be a bold man to say no to that. Second, you let the enemy out o’ this here trap for nothing. Why did they want out? I dunno, but it’s pretty plain they wanted it. Third, you wouldn’t let us go at them upon the march. Oh, we see through you, John Silver; you want to play booty, that’s what’s wrong with you. And then, fourth, there’s this here boy.”

      “Is that all?” asked Silver quietly.

      “Enough, too,” retorted George. “We’ll all swing and sun-dry for your bungling.”

      “Well now, look here, I’ll answer these four p’ints; one after another I’ll answer ‘em. I made a hash o’ this cruise, did I? Well now, you all know what I wanted, and you all know if that had been done that we’d ‘a been aboard the Hispaniola this night as ever was, every man of us alive, and fit, and full of good plum-duff, and the treasure in the hold of her, by thunder! Well, who crossed me? Who forced my hand, as was the lawful cap’n? Who tipped me the black spot the day we landed and began this dance? Ah, it’s a fine dance—I’m with you there—and looks mighty like a hornpipe in a rope’s end at Execution Dock by London town, it does. But who done it? Why, it was Anderson, and Hands, and you, George Merry! And you’re the last above board of that same meddling crew; and you have the Davy Jones’s insolence to up and stand for cap’n over me—you, that sank the lot of us! By the powers! But this tops