Treasure Island

rael Hands

The wind, serving us to a desire, now hauled into the west. We could run
so much the easier from the north-east corner of the island to the mouth
of the North Inlet. Only, as we had no power to anchor and dared not
beach her till the tide had flowed a good deal farther, time hung on our
hands. The coxswain told me how to lay the ship to; after a good many
trials I succeeded, and we both sat in silence over another meal.

“Cap’n,” said he at length with that same uncomfortable smile, “here’s
my old shipmate, O’Brien; s’pose you was to heave him overboard. I ain’t
partic’lar as a rule, and I don’t take no blame for settling his hash,
but I don’t reckon him ornamental now, do you?”

“I’m not strong enough, and I don’t like the job; and there he lies, for
me,” said I.

“This here’s an unlucky ship, this HISPANIOLA, Jim,” he went on,
blinking. “There’s a power of men been killed in this HISPANIOLA--a
sight o’ poor seamen dead and gone since you and me took ship to
Bristol. I never seen sich dirty luck, not I. There was this here
O’Brien now--he’s dead, ain’t he? Well now, I’m no scholar, and you’re a
lad as can read and figure, and to put it straight, do you take it as a
dead man is dead for good, or do he come alive again?”

“You can kill the body, Mr. Hands, but not the spirit; you must know
that already,” I replied. “O’Brien there is in another world, and may be
watching us.”

“Ah!” says he. “Well, that’s unfort’nate--appears as if killing parties
was a waste of time. Howsomever, sperrits don’t reckon for much, by what
I’ve seen. I’ll chance it with the sperrits, Jim. And now, you’ve spoke
up free, and I’ll take it kind if you’d step down into that there cabin
and get me a--well, a--shiver my timbers! I can’t hit the name on ’t;
well, you get me a bottle of wine, Jim--this here brandy’s too strong
for my head.”

Now, the coxswain’s hesitation seemed to be unnatural, and as for the
notion of his preferring wine to brandy, I entirely disbelieved it. The
whole story was a pretext. He wanted me to leave the deck--so much was
plain; but with what purpose I could in no way imagine. His eyes never
met mine; they kept wandering to and fro, up and down, now with a look
to the sky, now with a flitting glance upon the dead O’Brien. All the
time he kept smiling and putting his tongue out in the most guilty,
embarrassed manner, so that a child could have told that he was bent on
some deception. I was prompt with my answer, however, for I saw where
my advantage lay and that with a fellow so densely stupid I could easily
conceal my suspicions to the end.

“Some wine?” I said. “Far better. Will you have white or red?”

“Well, I reckon it’s about the blessed same to me, shipmate,” he
replied; “so it’s strong, and plenty of it, what’s the odds?”

“All right,” I answered. “I’ll bring you port, Mr. Hands. But I’ll have
to dig for it.”

With that I scuttled down the companion with all the noise I could,
slipped off my shoes, ran quietly along the sparred gallery, mounted the
forecastle ladder, and popped my head out of the fore companion. I
knew he would not expect to see me there, yet I took every precaution
possible, and certainly the worst of my suspicions proved too true.

He had risen from his position to his hands and knees, and though his
leg obviously hurt him pretty sharply when he moved--for I could hear
him stifle a groan--yet it was at a good, rattling rate that he trailed
himself across the deck. In half a minute he had reached the port
scuppers and picked, out of a coil of rope, a long knife, or rather a
short dirk, discoloured to the hilt with blood. He looked upon it for
a moment, thrusting forth his under jaw, tried the point upon his hand,
and then, hastily concealing it in the bosom of his jacket, trundled
back again into his old place against the bulwark.

This was all that I required to know. Israel could move about, he was
now armed, and if he had been at so much trouble to get rid of me,
it was plain that I was meant to be the victim. What he would do
afterwards--whether he would try to crawl right across the island from
North Inlet to the camp among the swamps or whether he would fire Long
Tom, trusting that his own comrades might come first to help him--was,
of course, more than I could say.

Yet I felt sure that I could trust him in one point, since in that
our interests jumped together, and that was in the disposition of
the schooner. We both desired to have her stranded safe enough, in a
sheltered place, and so that, when the time came, she could be got off
again with as little labour and danger as might be; and until that was
done I considered that my life would certainly be spared.

While I was thus turning the business over in my mind, I had not been
idle with my body. I had stolen back to the cabin, slipped once more
into my shoes, and laid my hand at random on a bottle of wine, and now,
with this for an excuse, I made my reappearance on the deck.

Hands lay as I had left him, all fallen together in a bundle and with
his eyelids lowered as though he were too weak to bear the light. He
looked up, however, at my coming, knocked the neck off the bottle like
a man who had done the same thing often, and took a good swig, with his
favourite toast of “Here’s luck!” Then he lay quiet for a little, and
then, pulling out a stick of tobacco, begged me to cut him a quid.

“Cut me a junk o’ that,” says he, “for I haven’t no knife and hardly
strength enough, so be as I had. Ah, Jim, Jim, I reckon I’ve missed
stays! Cut me a quid, as’ll likely be the last, lad, for I’m for my long
home, and no mistake.”

“Well,” said I, “I’ll cut you some tobacco, but if I was you and thought
myself so badly, I would go to my prayers like a Christian man.”

“Why?” said he. “Now, you tell me why.”

“Why?” I cried. “You were asking me just now about the dead. You’ve
broken your trust; you’ve lived in sin and lies and blood; there’s a man
you killed lying at your feet this moment, and you ask me why! For God’s
mercy, Mr. Hands, that’s why.”

I spoke with a little heat, thinking of the bloody dirk he had hidden
in his pocket and designed, in his ill thoughts, to end me with. He,
for his part, took a great draught of the wine and spoke with the most
unusual solemnity.

“For thirty years,” he said, “I’ve sailed the seas and seen good and
bad, better and worse, fair weather and foul, provisions running out,
knives going, and what not. Well, now I tell you, I never seen good come
o’ goodness yet. Him as strikes first is my fancy; dead men don’t bite;
them’s my views--amen, so be it. And now, you look here,” he added,
suddenly changing his tone, “we’ve had about enough of this foolery. The
tide’s made good enough by now. You just take my orders, Cap’n Hawkins,
and we’ll sail slap in and be done with it.”

All told, we had scarce two miles to run; but the navigation was
delicate, the entrance to this northern anchorage was not only narrow
and shoal, but lay east and west, so that the schooner must be nicely
handled to be got in. I think I was a good, prompt subaltern, and I am
very sure that Hands was an excellent pilot, for we went about and about
and dodged in, shaving the banks, with a certainty and a neatness that
were a pleasure to behold.

Scarcely had we passed the heads before the land closed around us. The
shores of North Inlet were as thickly wooded as those of the southern
anchorage, but the space was longer and narrower and more like, what in
truth it was, the estuary of a river. Right before us, at the southern
end, we saw the wreck of a ship in the last stages of dilapidation. It
had been a great vessel of three masts but had lain so long exposed to
the injuries of the weather that it was hung about with great webs of
dripping seaweed, and on the deck of it shore bushes had taken root and
now flourished thick with flowers. It was a sad sight, but it showed us
that the anchorage was calm.

“Now,” said Hands, “look there; there’s a pet bit for to beach a ship
in. Fine flat sand, never a cat’s paw, trees all around of it, and
flowers a-blowing like a garding on that old ship.”

“And once beached,” I inquired, “how shall we get her off again?”

“Why, so,” he replied: “you take a line ashore there on the other side
at low water, take a turn about one of them big pines; bring it back,
take a turn around the capstan, and lie to for the tide. Come high
water, all hands take a pull upon the line, and off she comes as sweet
as natur’. And now, boy, you stand by. We’re near the bit now, and she’s
too much way on her. Starboard a little--so--steady--starboard--larboard
a little--steady--steady!”

So he issued his commands, which I breathlessly obeyed, till, all of a
sudden, he cried, “Now, my hearty, luff!” And I put the helm hard up,
and the HISPANIOLA swung round rapidly and ran stem on for the low,
wooded shore.

The excitement of these last manoeuvres had somewhat interfered with the
watch I had kept hitherto, sharply enough, upon the coxswain. Even then
I was still so much interested, waiting for the ship to touch, that I
had quite forgot the peril that hung over my head and stood craning over
the starboard bulwarks and watching the ripples spreading wide before
the bows. I might have fallen without a struggle for my life had not a
sudden disquietude seized upon me and made me turn my head. Perhaps I
had heard a creak or seen his shadow moving with the tail of my eye;
perhaps it was an instinct like a cat’s; but, sure enough, when I looked
round, there was Hands, already half-way towards me, with the dirk in
his right hand.

We must both have cried out aloud when our eyes met, but while mine
was the shrill cry of terror, his was a roar of fury like a charging
bully’s. At the same instant, he threw himself forward and I leapt
sideways towards the bows. As I did so, I let go of the tiller, which
sprang sharp to leeward, and I think this saved my life, for it struck
Hands across the chest and stopped him, for the moment, dead.

Before he could recover, I was safe out of the corner where he had me
trapped, with all the deck to dodge about. Just forward of the main-mast
I stopped, drew a pistol from my pocket, took a cool aim, though he had
already turned and was once more coming directly after me, and drew the
trigger. The hammer fell, but there followed neither flash nor sound;
the priming was useless with sea-water. I cursed myself for my neglect.
Why had not I, long before, reprimed and reloaded my only weapons? Then
I should not have been as now, a mere fleeing sheep before this butcher.

Wounded as he was, it was wonderful how fast he could move, his grizzled
hair tumbling over his face, and his face itself as red as a red ensign
with his haste and fury. I had no time to try my other pistol, nor
indeed much inclination, for I was sure it would be useless. One thing I
saw plainly: I must not simply retreat before him, or he would speedily
hold me boxed into the bows, as a moment since he had so nearly boxed
me in the stern. Once so caught, and nine or ten inches of the
blood-stained dirk would be my last experience on this side of eternity.
I placed my palms against the main-mast, which was of a goodish bigness,
and waited, every nerve upon the stretch.

Seeing that I meant to dodge, he also paused; and a moment or two passed
in feints on his part and corresponding movements upon mine. It was such
a game as I had often played at home about the rocks of Black Hill Cove,
but never before, you may be sure, with such a wildly beating heart as
now. Still, as I say, it was a boy’s game, and I thought I could hold
my own at it against an elderly seaman with a wounded thigh. Indeed my
courage had begun to rise so high that I allowed myself a few darting
thoughts on what would be the end of the affair, and while I saw
certainly that I could spin it out for long, I saw no hope of any
ultimate escape.

Well, while things stood thus, suddenly the HISPANIOLA struck,
staggered, ground for an instant in the sand, and then, swift as a
blow, canted over to the port side till the deck stood at an angle
of forty-five degrees and about a puncheon of water splashed into the
scupper holes and lay, in a pool, between the deck and bulwark.

We were both of us capsized in a second, and both of us rolled, almost
together, into the scuppers, the dead red-cap, with his arms still
spread out, tumbling stiffly after us. So near were we, indeed, that my
head came against the coxswain’s foot with a crack that made my teeth
rattle. Blow and all, I was the first afoot again, for Hands had got
involved with the dead body. The sudden canting of the ship had made the
deck no place for running on; I had to find some new way of escape,
and that upon the instant, for my foe was almost touching me. Quick as
thought, I sprang into the mizzen shrouds, rattled up hand over hand,
and did not draw a breath till I was seated on the cross-trees.

I had been saved by being prompt; the dirk had struck not half a foot
below me as I pursued my upward flight; and there stood Israel Hands
with his mouth open and his face upturned to mine, a perfect statue of
surprise and disappointment.

Now that I had a moment to myself, I lost no time in changing the
priming of my pistol, and then, having one ready for service, and to
make assurance doubly sure, I proceeded to draw the load of the other
and recharge it afresh from the beginning.

My new employment struck Hands all of a heap; he began to see the dice
going against him, and after an obvious hesitation, he also hauled
himself heavily into the shrouds, and with the dirk in his teeth, began
slowly and painfully to mount. It cost him no end of time and groans
to haul his wounded leg behind him, and I had quietly finished my
arrangements before he was much more than a third of the way up. Then,
with a pistol in either hand, I addressed him.

“One more step, Mr. Hands,” said I, “and I’ll blow your brains out! Dead
men don’t bite, you know,” I added with a chuckle.

He stopped instantly. I could see by the working of his face that he was
trying to think, and the process was so slow and laborious that, in my
new-found security, I laughed aloud. At last, with a swallow or two, he
spoke, his face still wearing the same expression of extreme perplexity.
In order to speak he had to take the dagger from his mouth, but in all
else he remained unmoved.

“Jim,” says he, “I reckon we’re fouled, you and me, and we’ll have to
sign articles. I’d have had you but for that there lurch, but I don’t
have no luck, not I; and I reckon I’ll have to strike, which comes hard,
you see, for a master mariner to a ship’s younker like you, Jim.”

I was drinking in his words and smiling away, as conceited as a cock
upon a wall, when, all in a breath, back went his right hand over his
shoulder. Something sang like an arrow through the air; I felt a blow
and then a sharp pang, and there I was pinned by the shoulder to the
mast. In the horrid pain and surprise of the moment--I scarce can say
it was by my own volition, and I am sure it was without a conscious
aim--both my pistols went off, and both escaped out of my hands. They
did not fall alone; with a choked cry, the coxswain loosed his grasp
upon the shrouds and plunged head first into the water.