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PART FOUR--The Stockade
Chapter 16
Narrative Continued by the Doctor:
How theShip Was Abandoned
IT was about half past one--three bells in
the sea phrase--that the two boats went
ashore from the HISPANIOLA.
The captain, the squire, and I were talking
matters over in the cabin.
Had there been a breath of wind, we should
have fallen on the six mutineers who were
left aboard with us, slipped our cable, and
away to sea.
But the wind was wanting; and to complete
our helplessness, down came Hunter with the
news that Jim Hawkins had slipped into a
boat and was gone ashore with the rest.
It never occurred to us to doubt Jim
Hawkins, but we were alarmed for his
safety.
With the men in the temper they were in, it
seemed an even chance if we should see the
lad again.
We ran on deck.
The pitch was bubbling in the seams; the
nasty stench of the place turned me sick;
if ever a man smelt fever and dysentery, it
was in that abominable anchorage.
The six scoundrels were sitting grumbling
under a sail in the forecastle; ashore we
could see the gigs made fast and a man
sitting in each, hard by where the river
runs in.
One of them was whistling "Lillibullero."
Waiting was a strain, and it was decided
that Hunter and I should go ashore with the
jolly-boat in quest of information.
The gigs had leaned to their right, but
Hunter and I pulled straight in, in the
direction of the stockade upon the chart.
The two who were left guarding their boats
seemed in a bustle at our appearance;
"Lillibullero" stopped off, and I could see
the pair discussing what they ought to do.
Had they gone and told Silver, all might
have turned out differently; but they had
their orders, I suppose, and decided to sit
quietly where they were and hark back again
to "Lillibullero."
There was a slight bend in the coast, and I
steered so as to put it between us; even
before we landed we had thus lost sight of
the gigs.
I jumped out and came as near running as I
durst, with a big silk handkerchief under
my hat for coolness' sake and a brace of
pistols ready primed for safety.
I had not gone a hundred yards when I
reached the stockade.
This was how it was: a spring of clear
water rose almost at the top of a knoll.
Well, on the knoll, and enclosing the
spring, they had clapped a stout loghouse
fit to hold two score of people on a pinch
and loopholed for musketry on either side.
All round this they had cleared a wide
space, and then the thing was completed by
a paling six feet high, without door or
opening, too strong to pull down without
time and labour and too open to shelter the
besiegers.
The people in the log-house had them in
every way; they stood quiet in shelter and
shot the others like partridges.
All they wanted was a good watch and food;
for, short of a complete surprise, they
might have held the place against a
regiment.
What particularly took my fancy was the
spring.
For though we had a good enough place of it
in the cabin of the HISPANIOLA, with plenty
of arms and ammunition, and things to eat,
and excellent wines, there had been one
thing overlooked--we had no water.
I was thinking this over when there came
ringing over the island the cry of a man at
the point of death.
I was not new to violent death--I have
served his Royal Highness the Duke of
Cumberland, and got a wound myself at
Fontenoy--but I know my pulse went dot and
carry one.
"Jim Hawkins is gone," was my first
thought.
It is something to have been an old
soldier, but more still to have been a
doctor.
There is no time to dilly-dally in our
work.
And so now I made up my mind instantly, and
with no time lost returned to the shore and
jumped on board the jolly-boat.
By good fortune Hunter pulled a good oar.
We made the water fly, and the boat was
soon alongside and I aboard the schooner.
I found them all shaken, as was natural.
The squire was sitting down, as white as a
sheet, thinking of the harm he had led us
to, the good soul!
And one of the six forecastle hands was
little better.
"There's a man," says Captain Smollett,
nodding towards him, "new to this work.
He came nigh-hand fainting, doctor, when he
heard the cry.
Another touch of the rudder and that man
would join us."
I told my plan to the captain, and between
us we settled on the details of its
accomplishment.
We put old Redruth in the gallery between
the cabin and the forecastle, with three or
four loaded muskets and a mattress for
protection.
Hunter brought the boat round under the
stern-port, and Joyce and I set to work
loading her with powder tins, muskets, bags
of biscuits, kegs of pork, a cask of
cognac, and my invaluable medicine chest.
In the meantime, the squire and the captain
stayed on deck, and the latter hailed the
coxswain, who was the principal man aboard.
"Mr. Hands," he said, "here are two of us
with a brace of pistols each.
If any one of you six make a signal of any
description, that man's dead."
They were a good deal taken aback, and
after a little consultation one and all
tumbled down the fore companion, thinking
no doubt to take us on the rear.
But when they saw Redruth waiting for them
in the sparred galley, they went about ship
at once, and a head popped out again on
deck.
"Down, dog!" cries the captain.
And the head popped back again; and we
heard no more, for the time, of these six
very faint-hearted ***.
By this time, tumbling things in as they
came, we had the jolly-boat loaded as much
as we dared.
Joyce and I got out through the stern-port,
and we made for shore again as fast as oars
could take us.
This second trip fairly aroused the
watchers along shore.
"Lillibullero" was dropped again; and just
before we lost sight of them behind the
little point, one of them whipped ashore
and disappeared.
I had half a mind to change my plan and
destroy their boats, but I feared that
Silver and the others might be close at
hand, and all might very well be lost by
trying for too much.
We had soon touched land in the same place
as before and set to provision the block
house.
All three made the first journey, heavily
laden, and tossed our stores over the
palisade.
Then, leaving Joyce to guard them--one man,
to be sure, but with half a dozen muskets--
Hunter and I returned to the jolly-boat and
loaded ourselves once more.
So we proceeded without pausing to take
breath, till the whole cargo was bestowed,
when the two servants took up their
position in the block house, and I, with
all my power, sculled back to the
HISPANIOLA.
That we should have risked a second boat
load seems more daring than it really was.
They had the advantage of numbers, of
course, but we had the advantage of arms.
Not one of the men ashore had a musket, and
before they could get within range for
pistol shooting, we flattered ourselves we
should be able to give a good account of a
half-dozen at least.
The squire was waiting for me at the stern
window, all his faintness gone from him.
He caught the painter and made it fast, and
we fell to loading the boat for our very
lives.
Pork, powder, and biscuit was the cargo,
with only a musket and a cutlass apiece for
the squire and me and Redruth and the
captain.
The rest of the arms and powder we dropped
overboard in two fathoms and a half of
water, so that we could see the bright
steel shining far below us in the sun, on
the clean, sandy bottom.
By this time the tide was beginning to ebb,
and the ship was swinging round to her
anchor.
Voices were heard faintly halloaing in the
direction of the two gigs; and though this
reassured us for Joyce and Hunter, who were
well to the eastward, it warned our party
to be off.
Redruth retreated from his place in the
gallery and dropped into the boat, which we
then brought round to the ship's counter,
to be handier for Captain Smollett.
"Now, men," said he, "do you hear me?"
There was no answer from the forecastle.
"It's to you, Abraham Gray--it's to you I
am speaking."
Still no reply.
"Gray," resumed Mr. Smollett, a little
louder, "I am leaving this ship, and I
order you to follow your captain.
I know you are a good man at bottom, and I
dare say not one of the lot of you's as bad
as he makes out.
I have my watch here in my hand; I give you
thirty seconds to join me in."
There was a pause.
"Come, my fine fellow," continued the
captain; "don't hang so long in stays.
I'm risking my life and the lives of these
good gentlemen every second."
There was a sudden scuffle, a sound of
blows, and out burst Abraham Gray with a
knife cut on the side of the cheek, and
came running to the captain like a dog to
the whistle.
"I'm with you, sir," said he.
And the next moment he and the captain had
dropped aboard of us, and we had shoved off
and given way.
We were clear out of the ship, but not yet
ashore in our stockade.
Chapter 17
Narrative Continued by the Doctor: The
Jolly-boat's Last Trip
THIS fifth trip was quite different from
any of the others.
In the first place, the little gallipot of
a boat that we were in was gravely
overloaded.
Five grown men, and three of them--
Trelawney, Redruth, and the captain--over
six feet high, was already more than she
was meant to carry.
Add to that the powder, pork, and bread-
bags.
The gunwale was lipping astern.
Several times we shipped a little water,
and my breeches and the tails of my coat
were all soaking wet before we had gone a
hundred yards.
The captain made us trim the boat, and we
got her to lie a little more evenly.
All the same, we were afraid to breathe.
In the second place, the ebb was now
making--a strong rippling current running
westward through the basin, and then
south'ard and seaward down the straits by
which we had entered in the morning.
Even the ripples were a danger to our
overloaded craft, but the worst of it was
that we were swept out of our true course
and away from our proper landing-place
behind the point.
If we let the current have its way we
should come ashore beside the gigs, where
the pirates might appear at any moment.
"I cannot keep her head for the stockade,
sir," said I to the captain.
I was steering, while he and Redruth, two
fresh men, were at the oars.
"The tide keeps washing her down.
Could you pull a little stronger?"
"Not without swamping the boat," said he.
"You must bear up, sir, if you please--bear
up until you see you're gaining."
I tried and found by experiment that the
tide kept sweeping us westward until I had
laid her head due east, or just about right
angles to the way we ought to go.
"We'll never get ashore at this rate," said
I.
"If it's the only course that we can lie,
sir, we must even lie it," returned the
captain.
"We must keep upstream.
You see, sir," he went on, "if once we
dropped to leeward of the landing-place,
it's hard to say where we should get
ashore, besides the chance of being boarded
by the gigs; whereas, the way we go the
current must slacken, and then we can dodge
back along the shore."
"The current's less a'ready, sir," said the
man Gray, who was sitting in the fore-
sheets; "you can ease her off a bit."
"Thank you, my man," said I, quite as if
nothing had happened, for we had all
quietly made up our minds to treat him like
one of ourselves.
Suddenly the captain spoke up again, and I
thought his voice was a little changed.
"The gun!" said he.
"I have thought of that," said I, for I
made sure he was thinking of a bombardment
of the fort.
"They could never get the gun ashore, and
if they did, they could never haul it
through the woods."
"Look astern, doctor," replied the captain.
We had entirely forgotten the long nine;
and there, to our horror, were the five
rogues busy about her, getting off her
jacket, as they called the stout tarpaulin
cover under which she sailed.
Not only that, but it flashed into my mind
at the same moment that the round-shot and
the powder for the gun had been left
behind, and a stroke with an axe would put
it all into the possession of the evil ones
abroad.
"Israel was Flint's gunner," said Gray
hoarsely.
At any risk, we put the boat's head direct
for the landing-place.
By this time we had got so far out of the
run of the current that we kept steerage
way even at our necessarily gentle rate of
rowing, and I could keep her steady for the
goal.
But the worst of it was that with the
course I now held we turned our broadside
instead of our stern to the HISPANIOLA and
offered a target like a barn door.
I could hear as well as see that brandy-
faced rascal Israel Hands plumping down a
round-shot on the deck.
"Who's the best shot?" asked the captain.
"Mr. Trelawney, out and away," said I.
"Mr. Trelawney, will you please pick me off
one of these men, sir?
Hands, if possible," said the captain.
Trelawney was as cool as steel.
He looked to the priming of his gun.
"Now," cried the captain, "easy with that
gun, sir, or you'll swamp the boat.
All hands stand by to trim her when he
aims."
The squire raised his gun, the rowing
ceased, and we leaned over to the other
side to keep the balance, and all was so
nicely contrived that we did not ship a
drop.
They had the gun, by this time, slewed
round upon the swivel, and Hands, who was
at the muzzle with the rammer, was in
consequence the most exposed.
However, we had no luck, for just as
Trelawney fired, down he stooped, the ball
whistled over him, and it was one of the
other four who fell.
The cry he gave was echoed not only by his
companions on board but by a great number
of voices from the shore, and looking in
that direction I saw the other pirates
trooping out from among the trees and
tumbling into their places in the boats.
"Here come the gigs, sir," said I.
"Give way, then," cried the captain.
"We mustn't mind if we swamp her now.
If we can't get ashore, all's up."
"Only one of the gigs is being manned,
sir," I added; "the crew of the other most
likely going round by shore to cut us off."
"They'll have a hot run, sir," returned the
captain.
"Jack ashore, you know.
It's not them I mind; it's the round-shot.
Carpet bowls!
My lady's maid couldn't miss.
Tell us, squire, when you see the match,
and we'll hold water."
In the meanwhile we had been making headway
at a good pace for a boat so overloaded,
and we had shipped but little water in the
process.
We were now close in; thirty or forty
strokes and we should beach her, for the
ebb had already disclosed a narrow belt of
sand below the clustering trees.
The gig was no longer to be feared; the
little point had already concealed it from
our eyes.
The ebb-tide, which had so cruelly delayed
us, was now making reparation and delaying
our assailants.
The one source of danger was the gun.
"If I durst," said the captain, "I'd stop
and pick off another man."
But it was plain that they meant nothing
should delay their shot.
They had never so much as looked at their
fallen comrade, though he was not dead, and
I could see him trying to crawl away.
"Ready!" cried the squire.
"Hold!" cried the captain, quick as an
echo.
And he and Redruth backed with a great
heave that sent her stern bodily under
water.
The report fell in at the same instant of
time.
This was the first that Jim heard, the
sound of the squire's shot not having
reached him.
Where the ball passed, not one of us
precisely knew, but I fancy it must have
been over our heads and that the wind of it
may have contributed to our disaster.
At any rate, the boat sank by the stern,
quite gently, in three feet of water,
leaving the captain and myself, facing each
other, on our feet.
The other three took complete headers, and
came up again drenched and bubbling.
So far there was no great harm.
No lives were lost, and we could wade
ashore in safety.
But there were all our stores at the
bottom, and to make things worse, only two
guns out of five remained in a state for
service.
Mine I had snatched from my knees and held
over my head, by a sort of instinct.
As for the captain, he had carried his over
his shoulder by a bandoleer, and like a
wise man, lock uppermost.
The other three had gone down with the
boat.
To add to our concern, we heard voices
already drawing near us in the woods along
shore, and we had not only the danger of
being cut off from the stockade in our
half-crippled state but the fear before us
whether, if Hunter and Joyce were attacked
by half a dozen, they would have the sense
and conduct to stand firm.
Hunter was steady, that we knew; Joyce was
a doubtful case--a pleasant, polite man for
a valet and to brush one's clothes, but not
entirely fitted for a man of war.
With all this in our minds, we waded ashore
as fast as we could, leaving behind us the
poor jolly-boat and a good half of all our
powder and provisions.
Chapter 18
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 enclosure 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 block house,
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
colours, 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 trimmed in the enclosure, 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 colours.
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.
"Dr. 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, Dr. 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 colours!" 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 enclosure, 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 good thing 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 colours 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!
Hullo, 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.
Chapter 19
Narrative Resumed by Jim Hawkins: The
Garrison in the Stockade
AS soon as Ben Gunn saw the colours he came
to a halt, stopped me by the arm, and sat
"Now," said he, "there's your friends, sure
enough."
"Far more likely it's the mutineers," I
answered.
"That!" he cried.
"Why, in a place like this, where nobody
puts in but gen'lemen of fortune, Silver
would fly the Jolly Roger, you don't make
no doubt of that.
No, that's your friends.
There's been blows too, and I reckon your
friends has had the best of it; and here
they are ashore in the old stockade, as was
made years and years ago by Flint.
Ah, he was the man to have a headpiece, was
Flint!
Barring rum, his match were never seen.
He were afraid of none, not he; on'y
Silver--Silver was that genteel."
"Well," said I, "that may be so, and so be
it; all the more reason that I should hurry
on and join my friends."
"Nay, mate," returned Ben, "not you.
You're a good boy, or I'm mistook; but
you're on'y a boy, all told.
Now, Ben Gunn is fly.
Rum wouldn't bring me there, where you're
going--not rum wouldn't, till I see your
born gen'leman and gets it on his word of
honour.
And you won't forget my words; 'A precious
sight (that's what you'll say), a precious
sight more confidence'--and then nips him."
And he pinched me the third time with the
same air of cleverness.
"And when Ben Gunn is wanted, you know
where to find him, Jim.
Just wheer you found him today.
And him that comes is to have a white thing
in his hand, and he's to come alone.
Oh! And you'll say this: 'Ben Gunn,' says
you, 'has reasons of his own.'"
"Well," said I, "I believe I understand.
You have something to propose, and you wish
to see the squire or the doctor, and you're
to be found where I found you.
Is that all?"
"And when? says you," he added.
"Why, from about noon observation to about
six bells."
"Good," said I, "and now may I go?"
"You won't forget?" he inquired anxiously.
"Precious sight, and reasons of his own,
says you.
Reasons of his own; that's the mainstay; as
between man and man.
Well, then"--still holding me--"I reckon
you can go, Jim.
And, Jim, if you was to see Silver, you
wouldn't go for to sell Ben Gunn?
Wild horses wouldn't draw it from you?
No, says you.
And if them pirates camp ashore, Jim, what
would you say but there'd be widders in the
morning?"
Here he was interrupted by a loud report,
and a cannonball came tearing through the
trees and pitched in the sand not a hundred
yards from where we two were talking.
The next moment each of us had taken to his
heels in a different direction.
For a good hour to come frequent reports
shook the island, and balls kept crashing
through the woods.
I moved from hiding-place to hiding-place,
always pursued, or so it seemed to me, by
these terrifying missiles.
But towards the end of the bombardment,
though still I durst not venture in the
direction of the stockade, where the balls
fell oftenest, I had begun, in a manner, to
pluck up my heart again, and after a long
detour to the east, crept down among the
shore-side trees.
The sun had just set, the sea breeze was
rustling and tumbling in the woods and
ruffling the grey surface of the anchorage;
the tide, too, was far out, and great
tracts of sand lay uncovered; the air,
after the heat of the day, chilled me
through my jacket.
The HISPANIOLA still lay where she had
anchored; but, sure enough, there was the
Jolly Roger--the black flag of piracy--
flying from her peak.
Even as I looked, there came another red
flash and another report that sent the
echoes clattering, and one more round-shot
whistled through the air.
It was the last of the cannonade.
I lay for some time watching the bustle
which succeeded the attack.
Men were demolishing something with axes on
the beach near the stockade--the poor
jolly-boat, I afterwards discovered.
Away, near the mouth of the river, a great
fire was glowing among the trees, and
between that point and the ship one of the
gigs kept coming and going, the men, whom I
had seen so gloomy, shouting at the oars
like children.
But there was a sound in their voices which
suggested rum.
At length I thought I might return towards
the stockade.
I was pretty far down on the low, sandy
spit that encloses the anchorage to the
east, and is joined at half-water to
Skeleton Island; and now, as I rose to my
feet, I saw, some distance further down the
spit and rising from among low bushes, an
isolated rock, pretty high, and peculiarly
white in colour.
It occurred to me that this might be the
white rock of which Ben Gunn had spoken and
that some day or other a boat might be
wanted and I should know where to look for
one.
Then I skirted among the woods until I had
regained the rear, or shoreward side, of
the stockade, and was soon warmly welcomed
by the faithful party.
I had soon told my story and began to look
about me.
The log-house was made of unsquared trunks
of pine--roof, walls, and floor.
The latter stood in several places as much
as a foot or a foot and a half above the
There was a porch at the door, and under
this porch the little spring welled up into
an artificial basin of a rather odd kind--
no other than a great ship's kettle of
iron, with the bottom knocked out, and sunk
"to her bearings," as the captain said,
among the sand.
Little had been left besides the framework
of the house, but in one corner there was a
stone slab laid down by way of hearth and
an old rusty iron basket to contain the
fire.
The slopes of the knoll and all the inside
of the stockade had been cleared of timber
to build the house, and we could see by the
stumps what a fine and lofty grove had been
destroyed.
Most of the soil had been washed away or
buried in drift after the removal of the
trees; only where the streamlet ran down
from the kettle a thick bed of moss and
some ferns and little creeping bushes were
still green among the sand.
Very close around the stockade--too close
for defence, they said--the wood still
flourished high and dense, all of fir on
the land side, but towards the sea with a
large admixture of live-oaks.
The cold evening breeze, of which I have
spoken, whistled through every *** of the
rude building and sprinkled the floor with
a continual rain of fine sand.
There was sand in our eyes, sand in our
teeth, sand in our suppers, sand dancing in
the spring at the bottom of the kettle, for
all the world like porridge beginning to
boil.
Our chimney was a square hole in the roof;
it was but a little part of the smoke that
found its way out, and the rest eddied
about the house and kept us coughing and
piping the eye.
Add to this that Gray, the new man, had his
face tied up in a bandage for a cut he had
got in breaking away from the mutineers and
that poor old Tom Redruth, still unburied,
lay along the wall, stiff and stark, under
the Union Jack.
If we had been allowed to sit idle, we
should all have fallen in the blues, but
Captain Smollett was never the man for
that.
All hands were called up before him, and he
divided us into watches.
The doctor and Gray and I for one; the
squire, Hunter, and Joyce upon the other.
Tired though we all were, two were sent out
for firewood; two more were set to dig a
grave for Redruth; the doctor was named
cook; I was put sentry at the door; and the
captain himself went from one to another,
keeping up our spirits and lending a hand
wherever it was wanted.
From time to time the doctor came to the
door for a little air and to rest his eyes,
which were almost smoked out of his head,
and whenever he did so, he had a word for
me.
"That man Smollett," he said once, "is a
better man than I am.
And when I say that it means a deal, Jim."
Another time he came and was silent for a
while.
Then he put his head on one side, and
looked at me.
"Is this Ben Gunn a man?" he asked.
"I do not know, sir," said I.
"I am not very sure whether he's sane."
"If there's any doubt about the matter, he
is," returned the doctor.
"A man who has been three years biting his
nails on a desert island, Jim, can't expect
to appear as sane as you or me.
It doesn't lie in human nature.
Was it cheese you said he had a fancy for?"
"Yes, sir, cheese," I answered.
"Well, Jim," says he, "just see the good
that comes of being dainty in your food.
You've seen my snuff-box, haven't you?
And you never saw me take snuff, the reason
being that in my snuff-box I carry a piece
of Parmesan cheese--a cheese made in Italy,
very nutritious.
Well, that's for Ben Gunn!"
Before supper was eaten we buried old Tom
in the sand and stood round him for a while
bare-headed in the breeze.
A good deal of firewood had been got in,
but not enough for the captain's fancy, and
he shook his head over it and told us we
"must get back to this tomorrow rather
livelier."
Then, when we had eaten our pork and each
had a good stiff glass of brandy grog, the
three chiefs got together in a corner to
discuss our prospects.
It appears they were at their wits' end
what to do, the stores being so low that we
must have been starved into surrender long
before help came.
But our best hope, it was decided, was to
kill off the buccaneers until they either
hauled down their flag or ran away with the
HISPANIOLA.
From nineteen they were already reduced to
fifteen, two others were wounded, and one
at least--the man shot beside the gun--
severely wounded, if he were not dead.
Every time we had a crack at them, we were
to take it, saving our own lives, with the
extremest care.
And besides that, we had two able allies--
rum and the climate.
As for the first, though we were about half
a mile away, we could hear them roaring and
singing late into the night; and as for the
second, the doctor staked his wig that,
camped where they were in the marsh and
unprovided with remedies, the half of them
would be on their backs before a week.
"So," he added, "if we are not all shot
down first they'll be glad to be packing in
the schooner.
It's always a ship, and they can get to
buccaneering again, I suppose."
"First ship that ever I lost," said Captain
I was dead tired, as you may fancy; and
when I got to sleep, which was not till
after a great deal of tossing, I slept like
a log of wood.
The rest had long been up and had already
breakfasted and increased the pile of
firewood by about half as much again when I
was wakened by a bustle and the sound of
voices.
"Flag of truce!"
I heard someone say; and then, immediately
after, with a cry of surprise, "Silver
himself!"
And at that, up I jumped, and rubbing my
eyes, ran to a loophole in the wall.
Chapter 20
Silver's Embassy
SURE enough, there were two men just
outside the stockade, one of them waving a
white cloth, the other, no less a person
than Silver himself, standing placidly by.
It was still quite early, and the coldest
morning that I think I ever was abroad in--
a chill that pierced into the marrow.
The sky was bright and cloudless overhead,
and the tops of the trees shone rosily in
the sun.
But where Silver stood with his lieutenant,
all was still in shadow, and they waded
knee-deep in a low white vapour that had
crawled during the night out of the morass.
The chill and the vapour taken together
told a poor tale of the island.
It was plainly a damp, feverish, unhealthy
spot.
"Keep indoors, men," said the captain.
"Ten to one this is a trick."
Then he hailed the buccaneer.
"Who goes?
Stand, or we fire."
"Flag of truce," cried Silver.
The captain was in the porch, keeping
himself carefully out of the way of a
treacherous shot, should any be intended.
He turned and spoke to us, "Doctor's watch
on the lookout.
Dr. Livesey take the north side, if you
please; Jim, the east; Gray, west.
The watch below, all hands to load muskets.
Lively, men, and careful."
And then he turned again to the mutineers.
"And what do you want with your flag of
truce?" he cried.
This time it was the other man who replied.
"Cap'n Silver, sir, to come on board and
make terms," he shouted.
"Cap'n Silver!
Don't know him.
Who's he?" cried the captain.
And we could hear him adding to himself,
"Cap'n, is it?
My heart, and here's promotion!"
Long John answered for himself.
"Me, sir.
These poor lads have chosen me cap'n, after
your desertion, sir"--laying a particular
emphasis upon the word "desertion."
"We're willing to submit, if we can come to
terms, and no bones about it.
All I ask is your word, Cap'n Smollett, to
let me safe and sound out of this here
stockade, and one minute to get out o' shot
before a gun is fired."
"My man," said Captain Smollett, "I have
not the slightest desire to talk to you.
If you wish to talk to me, you can come,
that's all.
If there's any treachery, it'll be on your
side, and the Lord help you."
"That's enough, cap'n," shouted Long John
cheerily.
"A word from you's enough.
I know a gentleman, and you may lay to
that."
We could see the man who carried the flag
of truce attempting to hold Silver back.
Nor was that wonderful, seeing how cavalier
had been the captain's answer.
But Silver laughed at him aloud and slapped
him on the back as if the idea of alarm had
been absurd.
Then he advanced to the stockade, threw
over his crutch, got a leg up, and with
great vigour and skill succeeded in
surmounting the fence and dropping safely
to the other side.
I will confess that I was far too much
taken up with what was going on to be of
the slightest use as sentry; indeed, I had
already deserted my eastern loophole and
crept up behind the captain, who had now
seated himself on the threshold, with his
elbows on his knees, his head in his hands,
and his eyes fixed on the water as it
bubbled out of the old iron kettle in the
sand.
He was whistling "Come, Lasses and Lads."
Silver had terrible hard work getting up
the knoll.
What with the steepness of the incline, the
thick tree stumps, and the soft sand, he
and his crutch were as helpless as a ship
in stays.
But he stuck to it like a man in silence,
and at last arrived before the captain,
whom he saluted in the handsomest style.
He was tricked out in his best; an immense
blue coat, thick with brass buttons, hung
as low as to his knees, and a fine laced
hat was set on the back of his head.
"Here you are, my man," said the captain,
raising his head.
"You had better sit down."
"You ain't a-going to let me inside,
cap'n?" complained Long John.
"It's a main cold morning, to be sure, sir,
to sit outside upon the sand."
"Why, Silver," said the captain, "if you
had pleased to be an honest man, you might
have been sitting in your galley.
It's your own doing.
You're either my ship's cook--and then you
were treated handsome--or Cap'n Silver, a
common mutineer and pirate, and then you
can go hang!"
"Well, well, cap'n," returned the sea-cook,
sitting down as he was bidden on the sand,
"you'll have to give me a hand up again,
that's all.
A sweet pretty place you have of it here.
Ah, there's Jim!
The top of the morning to you, Jim.
Doctor, here's my service.
Why, there you all are together like a
happy family, in a manner of speaking."
"If you have anything to say, my man,
better say it," said the captain.
"Right you were, Cap'n Smollett," replied
Silver.
"Dooty is dooty, to be sure.
Well now, you look here, that was a good
lay of yours last night.
I don't deny it was a good lay.
Some of you pretty handy with a handspike-
end.
And I'll not deny neither but what some of
my people was shook--maybe all was shook;
maybe I was shook myself; maybe that's why
I'm here for terms.
But you mark me, cap'n, it won't do twice,
by thunder!
We'll have to do sentry-go and ease off a
point or so on the rum.
Maybe you think we were all a sheet in the
wind's eye.
But I'll tell you I was sober; I was on'y
dog tired; and if I'd awoke a second
sooner, I'd 'a caught you at the act, I
would.
He wasn't dead when I got round to him, not
he."
"Well?" says Captain Smollett as cool as
can be.
All that Silver said was a riddle to him,
but you would never have guessed it from
his tone.
As for me, I began to have an inkling.
Ben Gunn's last words came back to my mind.
I began to suppose that he had paid the
buccaneers a visit while they all lay drunk
together round their fire, and I reckoned
up with glee that we had only fourteen
enemies to deal with.
"Well, here it is," said Silver.
"We want that treasure, and we'll have it--
that's our point!
You would just as soon save your lives, I
reckon; and that's yours.
You have a chart, haven't you?"
"That's as may be," replied the captain.
"Oh, well, you have, I know that," returned
Long John.
"You needn't be so husky with a man; there
ain't a particle of service in that, and
you may lay to it.
What I mean is, we want your chart.
Now, I never meant you no harm, myself."
"That won't do with me, my man,"
interrupted the captain.
"We know exactly what you meant to do, and
we don't care, for now, you see, you can't
do it."
And the captain looked at him calmly and
proceeded to fill a pipe.
"If Abe Gray--" Silver broke out.
"Avast there!" cried Mr. Smollett.
"Gray told me nothing, and I asked him
nothing; and what's more, I would see you
and him and this whole island blown clean
out of the water into blazes first.
So there's my mind for you, my man, on
that."
This little whiff of temper seemed to cool
Silver down.
He had been growing nettled before, but now
he pulled himself together.
"Like enough," said he.
"I would set no limits to what gentlemen
might consider shipshape, or might not, as
the case were.
And seein' as how you are about to take a
pipe, cap'n, I'll make so free as do
likewise."
And he filled a pipe and lighted it; and
the two men sat silently smoking for quite
a while, now looking each other in the
face, now stopping their tobacco, now
leaning forward to spit.
It was as good as the play to see them.
"Now," resumed Silver, "here it is.
You give us the chart to get the treasure
by, and drop shooting poor *** and
stoving of their heads in while asleep.
You do that, and we'll offer you a choice.
Either you come aboard along of us, once
the treasure shipped, and then I'll give
you my affy-davy, upon my word of honour,
to clap you somewhere safe ashore.
Or if that ain't to your fancy, some of my
hands being rough and having old scores on
account of hazing, then you can stay here,
you can.
We'll divide stores with you, man for man;
and I'll give my affy-davy, as before to
speak the first ship I sight, and send 'em
here to pick you up.
Now, you'll own that's talking.
Handsomer you couldn't look to get, now
you.
And I hope"--raising his voice--"that all
hands in this here block house will
overhaul my words, for what is spoke to one
is spoke to all."
Captain Smollett rose from his seat and
knocked out the ashes of his pipe in the
palm of his left hand.
"Is that all?" he asked.
"Every last word, by thunder!" answered
John.
"Refuse that, and you've seen the last of
me but musket-balls."
"Very good," said the captain.
"Now you'll hear me.
If you'll come up one by one, unarmed, I'll
engage to clap you all in irons and take
you home to a fair trial in England.
If you won't, my name is Alexander
Smollett, I've flown my sovereign's
colours, and I'll see you all to Davy
Jones.
You can't find the treasure.
You can't sail the ship--there's not a man
among you fit to sail the ship.
You can't fight us--Gray, there, got away
from five of you.
Your ship's in irons, Master Silver; you're
on a lee shore, and so you'll find.
I stand here and tell you so; and they're
the last good words you'll get from me, for
in the name of heaven, I'll put a bullet in
your back when next I meet you.
***, my lad.
Bundle out of this, please, hand over hand,
and double quick."
Silver's face was a picture; his eyes
started in his head with wrath.
He shook the fire out of his pipe.
"Give me a hand up!" he cried.
"Not I," returned the captain.
"Who'll give me a hand up?" he roared.
Not a man among us moved.
Growling the foulest imprecations, he
crawled along the sand till he got hold of
the porch and could hoist himself again
upon his crutch.
Then he spat into the spring.
"There!" he cried.
"That's what I think of ye.
Before an hour's out, I'll stove in your
old block house like a rum puncheon.
Laugh, by thunder, laugh!
Before an hour's out, ye'll laugh upon the
other side.
Them that die'll be the lucky ones."
And with a dreadful oath he stumbled off,
ploughed down the sand, was helped across
the stockade, after four or five failures,
by the man with the flag of truce, and
disappeared in an instant afterwards among
the trees.
Chapter 21
The Attack
AS soon as Silver disappeared, the captain,
who had been closely watching him, turned
towards the interior of the house and found
not a man of us at his post but Gray.
It was the first time we had ever seen him
angry.
"Quarters!" he roared.
And then, as we all slunk back to our
places, "Gray," he said, "I'll put your
name in the log; you've stood by your duty
like a ***.
Mr. Trelawney, I'm surprised at you, sir.
Doctor, I thought you had worn the king's
coat!
If that was how you served at Fontenoy,
sir, you'd have been better in your berth."
The doctor's watch were all back at their
loopholes, the rest were busy loading the
spare muskets, and everyone with a red
face, you may be certain, and a flea in his
ear, as the saying is.
The captain looked on for a while in
silence.
Then he spoke.
"My lads," said he, "I've given Silver a
broadside.
I pitched it in red-hot on purpose; and
before the hour's out, as he said, we shall
be boarded.
We're outnumbered, I needn't tell you that,
but we fight in shelter; and a minute ago I
should have said we fought with discipline.
I've no manner of doubt that we can drub
them, if you choose."
Then he went the rounds and saw, as he
said, that all was clear.
On the two short sides of the house, east
and west, there were only two loopholes; on
the south side where the porch was, two
again; and on the north side, five.
There was a round score of muskets for the
seven of us; the firewood had been built
into four piles--tables, you might say--one
about the middle of each side, and on each
of these tables some ammunition and four
loaded muskets were laid ready to the hand
of the defenders.
In the middle, the cutlasses lay ranged.
"Toss out the fire," said the captain; "the
chill is past, and we mustn't have smoke in
our eyes."
The iron fire-basket was carried bodily out
by Mr. Trelawney, and the embers smothered
among sand.
"Hawkins hasn't had his breakfast.
Hawkins, help yourself, and back to your
post to eat it," continued Captain
"Lively, now, my lad; you'll want it before
you've done.
Hunter, serve out a round of brandy to all
hands."
And while this was going on, the captain
completed, in his own mind, the plan of the
"Doctor, you will take the door," he
resumed.
"See, and don't expose yourself; keep
within, and fire through the porch.
Hunter, take the east side, there.
Joyce, you stand by the west, my man.
Mr. Trelawney, you are the best shot--you
and Gray will take this long north side,
with the five loopholes; it's there the
danger is.
If they can get up to it and fire in upon
us through our own ports, things would
begin to look dirty.
Hawkins, neither you nor I are much account
at the shooting; we'll stand by to load and
bear a hand."
As the captain had said, the chill was
past.
As soon as the sun had climbed above our
girdle of trees, it fell with all its force
upon the clearing and drank up the vapours
at a draught.
Soon the sand was baking and the resin
melting in the logs of the block house.
Jackets and coats were flung aside, shirts
thrown open at the neck and rolled up to
the shoulders; and we stood there, each at
his post, in a fever of heat and anxiety.
An hour passed away.
"Hang them!" said the captain.
"This is as dull as the doldrums.
Gray, whistle for a wind."
And just at that moment came the first news
of the attack.
"If you please, sir," said Joyce, "if I see
anyone, am I to fire?"
"I told you so!" cried the captain.
"Thank you, sir," returned Joyce with the
same quiet civility.
Nothing followed for a time, but the remark
had set us all on the alert, straining ears
and eyes--the musketeers with their pieces
balanced in their hands, the captain out in
the middle of the block house with his
mouth very tight and a frown on his face.
So some seconds passed, till suddenly Joyce
whipped up his musket and fired.
The report had scarcely died away ere it
was repeated and repeated from without in a
scattering volley, shot behind shot, like a
string of geese, from every side of the
enclosure.
Several bullets struck the log-house, but
not one entered; and as the smoke cleared
away and vanished, the stockade and the
woods around it looked as quiet and empty
as before.
Not a bough waved, not the gleam of a
musket-barrel betrayed the presence of our
foes.
"Did you hit your man?" asked the captain.
"No, sir," replied Joyce.
"I believe not, sir."
"Next best thing to tell the truth,"
muttered Captain Smollett.
"Load his gun, Hawkins.
How many should say there were on your
side, doctor?"
"I know precisely," said Dr. Livesey.
"Three shots were fired on this side.
I saw the three flashes--two close
together--one farther to the west."
"Three!" repeated the captain.
"And how many on yours, Mr. Trelawney?"
But this was not so easily answered.
There had come many from the north--seven
by the squire's computation, eight or nine
according to Gray.
From the east and west only a single shot
had been fired.
It was plain, therefore, that the attack
would be developed from the north and that
on the other three sides we were only to be
annoyed by a show of hostilities.
But Captain Smollett made no change in his
arrangements.
If the mutineers succeeded in crossing the
stockade, he argued, they would take
possession of any unprotected loophole and
shoot us down like rats in our own
stronghold.
Nor had we much time left to us for
thought.
Suddenly, with a loud huzza, a little cloud
of pirates leaped from the woods on the
north side and ran straight on the
stockade.
At the same moment, the fire was once more
opened from the woods, and a rifle ball
sang through the doorway and knocked the
doctor's musket into bits.
The boarders swarmed over the fence like
monkeys.
Squire and Gray fired again and yet again;
three men fell, one forwards into the
enclosure, two back on the outside.
But of these, one was evidently more
frightened than hurt, for he was on his
feet again in a crack and instantly
disappeared among the trees.
Two had bit the dust, one had fled, four
had made good their footing inside our
defences, while from the shelter of the
woods seven or eight men, each evidently
supplied with several muskets, kept up a
hot though useless fire on the log-house.
The four who had boarded made straight
before them for the building, shouting as
they ran, and the men among the trees
shouted back to encourage them.
Several shots were fired, but such was the
hurry of the marksmen that not one appears
to have taken effect.
In a moment, the four pirates had swarmed
up the mound and were upon us.
The head of Job Anderson, the boatswain,
appeared at the middle loophole.
"At 'em, all hands--all hands!" he roared
in a voice of thunder.
At the same moment, another pirate grasped
Hunter's musket by the muzzle, wrenched it
from his hands, plucked it through the
loophole, and with one stunning blow, laid
the poor fellow senseless on the floor.
Meanwhile a third, running unharmed all
around the house, appeared suddenly in the
doorway and fell with his cutlass on the
doctor.
Our position was utterly reversed.
A moment since we were firing, under cover,
at an exposed enemy; now it was we who lay
uncovered and could not return a blow.
The log-house was full of smoke, to which
we owed our comparative safety.
Cries and confusion, the flashes and
reports of pistol-shots, and one loud groan
rang in my ears.
"Out, lads, out, and fight 'em in the open!
Cutlasses!" cried the captain.
I snatched a cutlass from the pile, and
someone, at the same time snatching
another, gave me a cut across the knuckles
which I hardly felt.
I dashed out of the door into the clear
sunlight.
Someone was close behind, I knew not whom.
Right in front, the doctor was pursuing his
assailant down the hill, and just as my
eyes fell upon him, beat down his guard and
sent him sprawling on his back with a great
slash across the face.
"Round the house, lads!
Round the house!" cried the captain; and
even in the hurly-burly, I perceived a
change in his voice.
Mechanically, I obeyed, turned eastwards,
and with my cutlass raised, ran round the
corner of the house.
Next moment I was face to face with
Anderson.
He roared aloud, and his hanger went up
above his head, flashing in the sunlight.
I had not time to be afraid, but as the
blow still hung impending, leaped in a
trice upon one side, and missing my foot in
the soft sand, rolled headlong down the
slope.
When I had first sallied from the door, the
other mutineers had been already swarming
up the palisade to make an end of us.
One man, in a red night-cap, with his
cutlass in his mouth, had even got upon the
top and thrown a leg across.
Well, so short had been the interval that
when I found my feet again all was in the
same posture, the fellow with the red
night-cap still half-way over, another
still just showing his head above the top
of the stockade.
And yet, in this breath of time, the fight
was over and the victory was ours.
Gray, following close behind me, had cut
down the big boatswain ere he had time to
recover from his last blow.
Another had been shot at a loophole in the
very act of firing into the house and now
lay in agony, the pistol still smoking in
his hand.
A third, as I had seen, the doctor had
disposed of at a blow.
Of the four who had scaled the palisade,
one only remained unaccounted for, and he,
having left his cutlass on the field, was
now clambering out again with the fear of
death upon him.
"Fire--fire from the house!" cried the
doctor.
"And you, lads, back into cover."
But his words were unheeded, no shot was
fired, and the last boarder made good his
escape and disappeared with the rest into
the wood.
In three seconds nothing remained of the
attacking party but the five who had
fallen, four on the inside and one on the
outside of the palisade.
The doctor and Gray and I ran full speed
for shelter.
The survivors would soon be back where they
had left their muskets, and at any moment
the fire might recommence.
The house was by this time somewhat cleared
of smoke, and we saw at a glance the price
we had paid for victory.
Hunter lay beside his loophole, stunned;
Joyce by his, shot through the head, never
to move again; while right in the centre,
the squire was supporting the captain, one
as pale as the other.
"The captain's wounded," said Mr.
Trelawney.
"Have they run?" asked Mr. Smollett.
"All that could, you may be bound,"
returned the doctor; "but there's five of
them will never run again."
"Five!" cried the captain.
"Come, that's better.
Five against three leaves us four to nine.
That's better odds than we had at starting.
We were seven to nineteen then, or thought
we were, and that's as bad to bear."*
*The mutineers were soon only eight in
number, for the man shot by Mr. Trelawney
on board the schooner died that same
evening of his wound.
But this was, of course, not known till
after by the faithful party.