Treasure Island - Robert Louis Stevenson (good books to read for teens .txt) š
- Author: Robert Louis Stevenson
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And he cast down upon the floor a paper that I instantly recognizedā ānone other than the chart on yellow paper, with the three red crosses, that I had found in the oilcloth at the bottom of the captainās 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.
āYes,ā said one, āthatās Flint, sure enough. J.āF., and a score below, with a close hitch to it, so he done ever.ā
āMighty pretty,ā said George. āBut how are we to get away with it, and us no ship?ā
Silver suddenly sprang up, and supporting himself with a hand against the wall: āNow, I give you warning, George,ā he cried. āOne more word of your sauce, and Iāll call you down and fight you. How? Why, how do I know? You had ought to tell me thatā āyou and the rest, that lost me my schooner, with your interference, burn you! But not you, you canāt; you aināt got the invention of a cockroach. But civil you can speak, and shall, George Merry, you may lay to that.ā
āThatās fair enow,ā said the old man Morgan.
āFair! I reckon so,ā said the sea-cook. āYou lost the ship; I found the treasure. Whoās the better man at that? And now I resign, by thunder! Elect whom you please to be your capān now; Iām done with it.ā
āSilver!ā they cried. āBarbecue forever! Barbecue for capān!ā
āSo thatās the toon, is it?ā cried the cook. āGeorge, I reckon youāll have to wait another turn, friend, and lucky for you as Iām not a revengeful man. But that was never my way. And now, shipmates, this black spot? āTaināt much good now, is it? Dickās crossed his luck and spoiled his Bible, and thatās about all.ā
āItāll do to kiss the book on still, wonāt it?ā growled Dick, who was evidently uneasy at the curse he had brought upon himself.
āA Bible with a bit cut out!ā returned Silver, derisively. āNot it. It donāt bind no moreān a ballad-book.ā
āDonāt it, though?ā cried Dick, with a sort of joy. āWell, I reckon thatās worth having, too.ā
āHere, Jimā āhereās a curāosity for you,ā said Silver, and he tossed me the paper.
It was a round 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 Revelationā āthese words among the rest, which struck sharply home upon my mind: āWithout are dogs and murderers.ā 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 āDeposed.ā 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 thumbnail.
That was the end of the nightās business. Soon after, with a drink all round, we lay down to sleep, and the outside of Silverās 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 uponā ākeeping 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.
XXX On ParoleI was wakenedā āindeed, we were all wakened, for I could see even the sentinel shake himself together from where he had fallen against the doorpostā āby a clear, hearty voice hailing us from the margin of the wood:
āBlockhouse, ahoy!ā it cried. āHereās the doctor.ā
And the doctor it was. Although I was glad to hear the sound, yet my gladness was not without admixture. I remembered with confusion my insubordinate
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