Complete Works of Robert Louis Stevenson (Illustrated)

by Robert Louis Stevenson

  “Is that all?” I asked.

  “Well, it’s all you’re to hear, my son,” returned Silver.

  “And now I am to choose?”

  “And now you are to choose, and you may lay to that,” said Silver.

  “Well,” said I, “I am not such a fool but I know pretty well what I have to look for. Let the worst come to the worst, it’s little I care. I’ve seen too many die since I fell in with you. But there’s a thing or two I have to tell you,” I said, and by this time I was quite excited; “and the first is this: Here you are, in a bad way; ship lost, treasure lost, men lost; your whole business gone to wreck; and if you want to know who did it — it was I! I was in the apple barrel the night we sighted land, and I heard you, John, and you, Dick Johnson, and Hands, who is now at the bottom of the sea, and told every word you said before the hour was out. And as for the schooner, it was I who cut her cable, and it was I who killed the men you had aboard of her, and it was I who brought her where you’ll never see her more, not one of you. The laugh’s on my side; I’ve had the top of this business from the first; I no more fear you than I fear a fly. Kill me, if you please, or spare me. But one thing I’ll say, and no more; if you spare me, bygones are bygones, and when you fellows are in court for piracy, I’ll save you all I can. It is for you to choose. Kill another and do yourselves no good, or spare me and keep a witness to save you from the gallows.”

  I stopped, for, I tell you, I was out of breath, and, to my wonder, not a man of them moved, but all sat staring at me like as many sheep. And while they were still staring I broke out again:

  “And now, Mr. Silver,” I said, “I believe you’re the best man here, and if things go to the worst, I’ll take it kind of you to let the doctor know the way I took it.”

  “I’ll bear it in mind,” said Silver, with an accent so curious that I could not, for the life of me, decide whether he were laughing at my request or had been favorably affected by my courage.

  “I’ll put one to that,” cried the old mahogany-faced seaman — Morgan by name — whom I had seen in Long John’s public-house upon the quays of Bristol. “It was him that knowed Black Dog.”

  “Well, and see here,” added the sea-cook, “I’ll put another again to that, by thunder! for it was this same boy that faked the chart from Billy Bones. First and last we’ve split upon Jim Hawkins!”

  “Then here goes!” said Morgan, with an oath.

  And he sprang up, drawing his knife as if he had been twenty.

  “Avast, there!” cried Silver. “Who are you, Tom Morgan? Maybe you thought you were captain here, perhaps. By the powers, but I’ll teach you better! Cross me and you’ll go where many a good man’s gone before you, first and last, these thirty year back — some to the yardarm, shiver my sides! and some by the board, and all to feed the fishes. There’s never a man looked me between the eyes and seen a good day a’terward, Tom Morgan, you may lay to that.”

  Morgan paused, but a hoarse murmur rose from the others.

  “Tom’s right,” said one.

  “I stood hazing long enough from one,” added another. “I’ll be hanged if I’ll be hazed by you, John Silver.”

  “Did any of you gentlemen want to have it out with me?” roared Silver, bending far forward from his position on the keg, with his pipe still glowing in his right hand. “Put a name on what you’re at; you ain’t dumb, I reckon. Him that wants shall get it. Have I lived this many years to have a son of a rum puncheon cock his hat athwart my hawser at the latter end of it? You know the way; you’re all gentlemen o’ fortune, by your account. Well, I’m ready. Take a cutlass, him that dares, and I’ll see the colour of his inside, crutch and all, before that pipe’s empty.”

  Not a man stirred; not a man answered.

  “That’s your sort, is it?” he added, returning his pipe to his mouth. “Well, you’re a gay lot to look at, any way. Not worth much to fight, you ain’t. P’r’aps you can understand King George’s English. I’m cap’n here by ‘lection. I’m cap’n here because I’m the best man by a long sea-mile. You won’t fight, as gentlemen o’ fortune should; then, by thunder, you’ll obey, and you may lay to it! I like that boy, now; I never seen a better boy than that. He’s more a man than any pair of rats of you in this here house, and what I say is this: Let me see him that’ll lay a hand on him — that’s what I say, and you may lay to it.”

  There was a long pause after this. I stood straight up against the wall, my heart still going like a sledgehammer, but with a ray of hope now shining in my bosom. Silver leant back against the wall, his arms crossed, his pipe in the corner of his mouth, as calm as though he had been in church; yet his eye kept wandering furtively, and he kept the tail of it on his unruly followers. They, on their part, drew gradually together toward the far end of the blockhouse, and the low hiss of their whispering sounded in my ears continuously, like a stream. One after another they would look up, and the red light of the torch would fall for a second on their nervous faces; but it was not toward me, it was toward Silver that they turned their eyes.

  “You seem to have a lot to say,” remarked Silver, spitting far into the air. “Pipe up and let me hear it, or lay to.”

  “Ax your pardon, sir,” returned one of the men; “you’re pretty free with some of the rules, maybe you’ll kindly keep an eye upon the rest. This crew’s dissatisfied; this crew don’t vally bullying a marlinspike; this crew has its rights like other crews, I’ll make so free as that; and by your own rules I take it we can talk together. I ax your pardon, sir, acknowledging you for to be capting at this present, but I claim my right and steps outside for a council.”

  And with an elaborate sea-salute this fellow, a long, ill-looking, yellow-eyed man of five-and-thirty, stepped coolly toward the door and disappeared out of the house. One after another the rest followed his example, each making a salute as he passed, each adding some apology. “According to rules,” said one. “Foc’s’le council,” said Morgan. And so with one remark or another, all marched out and left Silver and me alone with the torch.

  The sea-cook instantly removed his pipe.

  “Now, look you here, Jim Hawkins,” he said in a steady whisper that was no more than audible, “you’re within half a plank of death, and, what’s a long sight worse, of torture. They’re going to throw me off. But you mark, I stand by you through thick and thin. I didn’t mean to; no, not till you spoke up. I was about desperate to lose that much blunt, and be hanged into the bargain. 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.

  “Ay, 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 stanch. 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 XXIX

  THE BLACK SPOT AGAIN

  The council of the 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 halfway 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 maneuvers 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 toward 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, hello! 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 insolence to up and stand for cap’n over me — you, that sunk the lot of us! By the powers! but this tops the stiffest yarn to nothing.”

  Silver paused, and I could see by the faces of George and his late comrades that these words had not been said in vain.

  “That’s for number one,” cried the accused, wiping the sweat from his brow, for he had been talking with a vehemence that shook the house. “Why, I give you my word, I’m sick to speak to you. You’ve neither sense nor memory, and I leave it to fancy where your mothers was that let you come to sea. Sea! Gentlemen o’ fortune! I reckon tailors is your trade.”

  “Go on, John,” said Morgan. “Speak up to the others.”

  “Ah, the others!” returned John. “They’re a nice lot, ain’t they? You say this cruise is bungled. Ah! by gum, if you could understand how bad it’s bungled, you would see! We’re that near the gibbet that my neck’s stiff with thinking on it. You’ve seen ‘em, maybe, hanged in chains, birds about ‘em, seamen p’inting ‘em out as they go down with the tide. ‘Who’s that?’ says one. ‘That! Why, that’s John Silver. I knowed him well,’ says another. And you can hear the chains a-jangle as you go about and reach for the other buoy. Now, that’s about where we are, every mother’s son of us, thanks to him, and Hands, and Anderson, and other ruination fools of you. And if you want to know about number four, and that boy, why, shiver my timbers! isn’t he a hostage? Are we a-going to waste a hostage? No, not us; he might be our last chance, and I shouldn’t wonder. Kill that boy? not me, mates! And number three? Ah, well, there’s a deal to say to number three. Maybe you don’t count it nothing to have a real college doctor come to see you every day — you, John, with your head broke — or you, George Merry, that had the ague shakes upon you not six hours agone, and has your eyes the colour of lemon peel to this same moment on the clock? And maybe, perhaps, you didn’t know there was a consort coming, either? But there is, and not so long till then; and we’
ll see who’ll be glad to have a hostage when it comes to that. And as for number two, and why I made a bargain — well, you come crawling on your knees to me to make it — on your knees you came, you was that downhearted — and you’d have starved, too, if I hadn’t — but that’s a trifle! you look there — that’s why!”

  And he cast down upon the floor a paper that I instantly recognized — none other than the chart on yellow paper, with the three red crosses, that I had found in the oilcloth at the bottom of the captain’s chest. Why the doctor had given it to him was more than I could fancy.

  But if it were inexplicable to me, the appearance of the chart was incredible to the surviving mutineers. They leaped upon it like cats upon a mouse. It went from hand to hand, one tearing it from another; and by the oaths and the cries and the childish laughter with which they accompanied their examination, you would have thought, not only they were fingering the very gold, but were at sea with it, besides, in safety.

  “Yes,” said one, “that’s Flint, sure enough. J. F., and a score below, with a close hitch to it, so he done ever.”

  “Mighty pretty,” said George. “But how are we to get away with it, and us no ship?”

  Silver suddenly sprang up, and supporting himself with a hand against the wall: “Now, I give you warning, George,” he cried. “One more word of your sauce, and I’ll call you down and fight you. How? Why, how do I know? You had ought to tell me that — you and the rest, that lost me my schooner, with your interference, burn you! But not you, you can’t; you ain’t got the invention of a cockroach. But civil you can speak, and shall, George Merry, you may lay to that.”

  “That’s fair enow,” said the old man Morgan.

  “Fair! I reckon so,” said the sea-cook. “You lost the ship; I found the treasure. Who’s the better man at that? And now I resign, by thunder! Elect whom you please to be your cap’n now; I’m done with it.”