Treasure Island - Robert Louis Stevenson (best ebook reader txt) 📗
- Author: Robert Louis Stevenson
- Performer: 0451527046
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himself. She’s sailed with England, the great Cap’n
England, the pirate. She’s been at Madagascar, and at
Malabar, and Surinam, and Providence, and Portobello.
She was at the fishing up of the wrecked plate ships.
It’s there she learned ‘Pieces of eight,’ and little
wonder; three hundred and fifty thousand of ‘em,
Hawkins! She was at the boarding of the viceroy of the
Indies out of Goa, she was; and to look at her you
would think she was a babby. But you smelt powder—
didn’t you, cap’n?”
“Stand by to go about,” the parrot would scream.
“Ah, she’s a handsome craft, she is,” the cook would say,
and give her sugar from his pocket, and then the bird
would peck at the bars and swear straight on, passing
belief for wickedness. “There,” John would add, “you
can’t touch pitch and not be mucked, lad. Here’s this
poor old innocent bird o’ mine swearing blue fire, and
none the wiser, you may lay to that. She would swear the
same, in a manner of speaking, before chaplain.” And John
would touch his forelock with a solemn way he had that made
me think he was the best of men.
In the meantime, the squire and Captain Smollett were
still on pretty distant terms with one another. The
squire made no bones about the matter; he despised the
captain. The captain, on his part, never spoke but when
he was spoken to, and then sharp and short and dry, and
not a word wasted. He owned, when driven into a corner,
that he seemed to have been wrong about the crew, that
some of them were as brisk as he wanted to see and all
had behaved fairly well. As for the ship, he had taken
a downright fancy to her. “She’ll lie a point nearer
the wind than a man has a right to expect of his own
married wife, sir. But,” he would add, “all I say is,
we’re not home again, and I don’t like the cruise.”
The squire, at this, would turn away and march up and
down the deck, chin in air.
“A trifle more of that man,” he would say, “and I
shall explode.”
We had some heavy weather, which only proved the
qualities of the HISPANIOLA. Every man on board
seemed well content, and they must have been hard to
please if they had been otherwise, for it is my belief
there was never a ship’s company so spoiled since Noah
put to sea. Double grog was going on the least excuse;
there was duff on odd days, as, for instance, if the
squire heard it was any man’s birthday, and always a
barrel of apples standing broached in the waist for
anyone to help himself that had a fancy.
“Never knew good come of it yet,” the captain said to
Dr. Livesey. “Spoil forecastle hands, make devils.
That’s my belief.”
But good did come of the apple barrel, as you shall
hear, for if it had not been for that, we should have
had no note of warning and might all have perished by
the hand of treachery.
This was how it came about.
We had run up the trades to get the wind of the island
we were after—I am not allowed to be more plain—and
now we were running down for it with a bright lookout
day and night. It was about the last day of our
outward voyage by the largest computation; some time
that night, or at latest before noon of the morrow, we
should sight the Treasure Island. We were heading
S.S.W. and had a steady breeze abeam and a quiet sea.
The HISPANIOLA rolled steadily, dipping her
bowsprit now and then with a whiff of spray. All was
drawing alow and aloft; everyone was in the bravest
spirits because we were now so near an end of the first
part of our adventure.
Now, just after sundown, when all my work was over and
I was on my way to my berth, it occurred to me that I
should like an apple. I ran on deck. The watch was
all forward looking out for the island. The man at the
helm was watching the luff of the sail and whistling
away gently to himself, and that was the only sound
excepting the swish of the sea against the bows and
around the sides of the ship.
In I got bodily into the apple barrel, and found there
was scarce an apple left; but sitting down there in the
dark, what with the sound of the waters and the rocking
movement of the ship, I had either fallen asleep or was
on the point of doing so when a heavy man sat down with
rather a clash close by. The barrel shook as he leaned
his shoulders against it, and I was just about to jump
up when the man began to speak. It was Silver’s voice,
and before I had heard a dozen words, I would not have
shown myself for all the world, but lay there, trembling
and listening, in the extreme of fear and curiosity, for
from these dozen words I understood that the lives of all
the honest men aboard depended upon me alone.
11
What 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
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