Treasure Island

hat I Heard in the Apple-Barrel

“No, not I,” said Silver. “Flint was cap’n; I was quartermaster, along
of my timber leg. The same broadside I lost my leg, old Pew lost his
deadlights. It was a master surgeon, him that ampytated me--out of
college and all--Latin by the bucket, and what not; but he was hanged
like a dog, and sun-dried like the rest, at Corso Castle. That was
Roberts’ men, that was, and comed of changing names to their
ships--ROYAL FORTUNE and so on. Now, what a ship was christened, so let
her stay, I says. So it was with the CASSANDRA, as brought us all safe
home from Malabar, after England took the Viceroy of the Indies; so
it was with the old WALRUS, Flint’s old ship, as I’ve seen amuck with
the red blood and fit to sink with gold.”

“Ah!” cried another voice, that of the youngest hand on board, and
evidently full of admiration. “He was the flower of the flock, was
Flint!”

“Davis was a man too, by all accounts,” said Silver. “I never sailed
along of him; first with England, then with Flint, that’s my story;
and now here on my own account, in a manner of speaking. I laid by nine
hundred safe, from England, and two thousand after Flint. That ain’t bad
for a man before the mast--all safe in bank. ’Tain’t earning now, it’s
saving does it, you may lay to that. Where’s all England’s men now? I
dunno. Where’s Flint’s? Why, most on ’em aboard here, and glad to get
the duff--been begging before that, some on ’em. Old Pew, as had lost
his sight, and might have thought shame, spends twelve hundred pound in
a year, like a lord in Parliament. Where is he now? Well, he’s dead now
and under hatches; but for two year before that, shiver my timbers,
the man was starving! He begged, and he stole, and he cut throats, and
starved at that, by the powers!”

“Well, it ain’t much use, after all,” said the young seaman.

“’Tain’t much use for fools, you may lay to it--that, nor nothing,”
cried Silver. “But now, you look here: you’re young, you are, but you’re
as smart as paint. I see that when I set my eyes on you, and I’ll talk
to you like a man.”

You may imagine how I felt when I heard this abominable old rogue
addressing another in the very same words of flattery as he had used
to myself. I think, if I had been able, that I would have killed
him through the barrel. Meantime, he ran on, little supposing he was
overheard.

“Here it is about gentlemen of fortune. They lives rough, and they risk
swinging, but they eat and drink like fighting-cocks, and when a cruise
is done, why, it’s hundreds of pounds instead of hundreds of farthings
in their pockets. Now, the most goes for rum and a good fling, and to
sea again in their shirts. But that’s not the course I lay. I puts it
all away, some here, some there, and none too much anywheres, by reason
of suspicion. I’m fifty, mark you; once back from this cruise, I set up
gentleman in earnest. Time enough too, says you. Ah, but I’ve lived easy
in the meantime, never denied myself o’ nothing heart desires, and slep’
soft and ate dainty all my days but when at sea. And how did I begin?
Before the mast, like you!”

“Well,” said the other, “but all the other money’s gone now, ain’t it?
You daren’t show face in Bristol after this.”

“Why, where might you suppose it was?” asked Silver derisively.

“At Bristol, in banks and places,” answered his companion.

“It were,” said the cook; “it were when we weighed anchor. But my old
missis has it all by now. And the Spy-glass is sold, lease and goodwill
and rigging; and the old girl’s off to meet me. I would tell you where,
for I trust you, but it’d make jealousy among the mates.”

“And can you trust your missis?” asked the other.

“Gentlemen of fortune,” returned the cook, “usually trusts little among
themselves, and right they are, you may lay to it. But I have a way with
me, I have. When a mate brings a slip on his cable--one as knows me, I
mean--it won’t be in the same world with old John. There was some that
was feared of Pew, and some that was feared of Flint; but Flint his own
self was feared of me. Feared he was, and proud. They was the roughest
crew afloat, was Flint’s; the devil himself would have been feared to go
to sea with them. Well now, I tell you, I’m not a boasting man, and you
seen yourself how easy I keep company, but when I was quartermaster,
LAMBS wasn’t the word for Flint’s old buccaneers. Ah, you may be sure of
yourself in old John’s ship.”

“Well, I tell you now,” replied the lad, “I didn’t half a quarter like
the job till I had this talk with you, John; but there’s my hand on it
now.”

“And a brave lad you were, and smart too,” answered Silver, shaking
hands so heartily that all the barrel shook, “and a finer figurehead for
a gentleman of fortune I never clapped my eyes on.”

By this time I had begun to understand the meaning of their terms. By a
“gentleman of fortune” they plainly meant neither more nor less than a
common pirate, and the little scene that I had overheard was the last
act in the corruption of one of the honest hands--perhaps of the last
one left aboard. But on this point I was soon to be relieved, for Silver
giving a little whistle, a third man strolled up and sat down by the
party.

“Dick’s square,” said Silver.

“Oh, I know’d Dick was square,” returned the voice of the coxswain,
Israel Hands. “He’s no fool, is Dick.” And he turned his quid and spat.
“But look here,” he went on, “here’s what I want to know, Barbecue: how
long are we a-going to stand off and on like a blessed bumboat? I’ve had
a’most enough o’ Cap’n Smollett; he’s hazed me long enough, by thunder!
I want to go into that cabin, I do. I want their pickles and wines, and
that.”

“Israel,” said Silver, “your head ain’t much account, nor ever was. But
you’re able to hear, I reckon; leastways, your ears is big enough.
Now, here’s what I say: you’ll berth forward, and you’ll live hard, and
you’ll speak soft, and you’ll keep sober till I give the word; and you
may lay to that, my son.”

“Well, I don’t say no, do I?” growled the coxswain. “What I say is,
when? That’s what I say.”

“When! By the powers!” cried Silver. “Well now, if you want to know,
I’ll tell you when. The last moment I can manage, and that’s when.
Here’s a first-rate seaman, Cap’n Smollett, sails the blessed ship for
us. Here’s this squire and doctor with a map and such--I don’t know
where it is, do I? No more do you, says you. Well then, I mean this
squire and doctor shall find the stuff, and help us to get it aboard,
by the powers. Then we’ll see. If I was sure of you all, sons of double
Dutchmen, I’d have Cap’n Smollett navigate us half-way back again before
I struck.”

“Why, we’re all seamen aboard here, I should think,” said the lad Dick.

“We’re all forecastle hands, you mean,” snapped Silver. “We can steer
a course, but who’s to set one? That’s what all you gentlemen split on,
first and last. If I had my way, I’d have Cap’n Smollett work us back
into the trades at least; then we’d have no blessed miscalculations and
a spoonful of water a day. But I know the sort you are. I’ll finish with
’em at the island, as soon’s the blunt’s on board, and a pity it is. But
you’re never happy till you’re drunk. Split my sides, I’ve a sick heart
to sail with the likes of you!”

“Easy all, Long John,” cried Israel. “Who’s a-crossin’ of you?”

“Why, how many tall ships, think ye, now, have I seen laid aboard? And
how many brisk lads drying in the sun at Execution Dock?” cried Silver.
“And all for this same hurry and hurry and hurry. You hear me? I seen
a thing or two at sea, I have. If you would on’y lay your course, and a
p’int to windward, you would ride in carriages, you would. But not you!
I know you. You’ll have your mouthful of rum tomorrow, and go hang.”

“Everybody knowed you was a kind of a chapling, John; but there’s others
as could hand and steer as well as you,” said Israel. “They liked a bit
o’ fun, they did. They wasn’t so high and dry, nohow, but took their
fling, like jolly companions every one.”

“So?” says Silver. “Well, and where are they now? Pew was that sort,
and he died a beggar-man. Flint was, and he died of rum at Savannah. Ah,
they was a sweet crew, they was! On’y, where are they?”

“But,” asked Dick, “when we do lay ’em athwart, what are we to do with
’em, anyhow?”

“There’s the man for me!” cried the cook admiringly. “That’s what I call
business. Well, what would you think? Put ’em ashore like maroons? That
would have been England’s way. Or cut ’em down like that much pork? That
would have been Flint’s, or Billy Bones’s.”

“Billy was the man for that,” said Israel. “‘Dead men don’t bite,’ says
he. Well, he’s dead now hisself; he knows the long and short on it now;
and if ever a rough hand come to port, it was Billy.”

“Right you are,” said Silver; “rough and ready. But mark you here,
I’m an easy man--I’m quite the gentleman, says you; but this time it’s
serious. Dooty is dooty, mates. I give my vote--death. When I’m in
Parlyment and riding in my coach, I don’t want none of these sea-lawyers
in the cabin a-coming home, unlooked for, like the devil at prayers.
Wait is what I say; but when the time comes, why, let her rip!”

“John,” cries the coxswain, “you’re a man!”

“You’ll say so, Israel when you see,” said Silver. “Only one thing I
claim--I claim Trelawney. I’ll wring his calf’s head off his body with
these hands, Dick!” he added, breaking off. “You just jump up, like a
sweet lad, and get me an apple, to wet my pipe like.”

You may fancy the terror I was in! I should have leaped out and run for
it if I had found the strength, but my limbs and heart alike misgave me.
I heard Dick begin to rise, and then someone seemingly stopped him, and
the voice of Hands exclaimed, “Oh, stow that! Don’t you get sucking of
that bilge, John. Let’s have a go of the rum.”

“Dick,” said Silver, “I trust you. I’ve a gauge on the keg, mind.
There’s the key; you fill a pannikin and bring it up.”

Terrified as I was, I could not help thinking to myself that this must
have been how Mr. Arrow got the strong waters that destroyed him.

Dick was gone but a little while, and during his absence Israel spoke
straight on in the cook’s ear. It was but a word or two that I could
catch, and yet I gathered some important news, for besides other scraps
that tended to the same purpose, this whole clause was audible: “Not
another man of them’ll jine.” Hence there were still faithful men on
board.

When Dick returned, one after another of the trio took the pannikin and
drank--one “To luck,” another with a “Here’s to old Flint,” and Silver
himself saying, in a kind of song, “Here’s to ourselves, and hold your
luff, plenty of prizes and plenty of duff.”

Just then a sort of brightness fell upon me in the barrel, and looking
up, I found the moon had risen and was silvering the mizzen-top and
shining white on the luff of the fore-sail; and almost at the same time
the voice of the lookout shouted, “Land ho!”