Treasure Island

he Black Spot Again

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Step up, lad,” cried Silver. “I won’t eat you. Hand it over, lubber. I
know the rules, I do; I won’t hurt a depytation.”

Thus encouraged, the buccaneer stepped forth more briskly, and having
passed something to Silver, from hand to hand, slipped yet more smartly
back again to his companions.

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

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

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

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

“It was Dick,” said one.

“Dick, was it? Then Dick can get to prayers,” said Silver. “He’s seen
his slice of luck, has Dick, and you may lay to that.”

But here the long man with the yellow eyes struck in.

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that all?” asked Silver quietly.

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

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

“Silver!” they cried. “Barbecue forever! Barbecue for cap’n!”

“So that’s the toon, is it?” cried the cook. “George, I reckon you’ll
have to wait another turn, friend; and lucky for you as I’m not a
revengeful man. But that was never my way. And now, shipmates, this
black spot? ’Tain’t much good now, is it? Dick’s crossed his luck and
spoiled his Bible, and that’s about all.”

“It’ll do to kiss the book on still, won’t it?” growled Dick, who was
evidently uneasy at the curse he had brought upon himself.

“A Bible with a bit cut out!” returned Silver derisively. “Not it. It
don’t bind no more’n a ballad-book.”

“Don’t it, though?” cried Dick with a sort of joy. “Well, I reckon
that’s worth having too.”

“Here, Jim--here’s a cur’osity for you,” said Silver, and he tossed me
the paper.

It was around about the size of a crown piece. One side was blank,
for it had been the last leaf; the other contained a verse or two of
Revelation--these words among the rest, which struck sharply home upon
my mind: “Without are dogs and murderers.” The printed side had been
blackened with wood ash, which already began to come off and soil my
fingers; on the blank side had been written with the same material the
one word “Depposed.” I have that curiosity beside me at this moment, but
not a trace of writing now remains beyond a single scratch, such as a
man might make with his thumb-nail.

That was the end of the night’s business. Soon after, with a drink all
round, we lay down to sleep, and the outside of Silver’s vengeance was
to put George Merry up for sentinel and threaten him with death if he
should prove unfaithful.

It was long ere I could close an eye, and heaven knows I had matter
enough for thought in the man whom I had slain that afternoon, in my own
most perilous position, and above all, in the remarkable game that I saw
Silver now engaged upon--keeping the mutineers together with one hand
and grasping with the other after every means, possible and impossible,
to make his peace and save his miserable life. He himself slept
peacefully and snored aloud, yet my heart was sore for him, wicked as he
was, to think on the dark perils that environed and the shameful gibbet
that awaited him.