TREASURE ISLAND (Including the History Behind the Book). Даниэль Дефо
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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!”
Chapter XII.
Council of War
There was a great rush of feet across the deck. I could hear people tumbling up from the cabin and the forecastle, and slipping in an instant outside my barrel, I dived behind the fore-sail, made a double towards the stern, and came out upon the open deck in time to join Hunter and Dr. Livesey in the rush for the weather bow.
There all hands were already congregated. A belt of fog had lifted almost simultaneously with the appearance of the moon. Away to the south-west of us we saw two low hills, about a couple of miles apart, and rising behind one of them a third and higher hill, whose peak was still buried in the fog. All three seemed sharp and conical in figure.
So much I saw, almost in a dream, for I had not yet recovered from my horrid fear of a minute or two before. And then I heard the voice of Captain Smollett issuing orders. The HISPANIOLA was laid a couple of points nearer the wind and now sailed a course that would just clear the island on the east.
“And now, men,” said the captain, when all was sheeted home, “has any one of you ever seen that land ahead?”
“I have, sir,” said Silver. “I’ve watered there with a trader I was cook in.”
“The anchorage is on the south, behind an islet, I fancy?” asked the captain.
“Yes, sir; Skeleton Island they calls it. It were a main place for pyrates once, and a hand we had on board knowed all their names for it. That hill to the nor’ard they calls the Fore-mast Hill; there are three hills in a row running south’ard — fore, main, and mizzen, sir. But the main — that’s the big un, with the cloud on it — they usually calls the Spy-glass, by reason of a lookout they kept when they was in the anchorage cleaning, for it’s there they cleaned their ships, sir, asking your pardon.”
“I have a chart here,” says Captain Smollett. “See if that’s the place.”
Long John’s eyes burned in his head as he took the chart, but by the fresh look of the paper I knew he was doomed to disappointment. This was not the map we found in Billy Bones’s chest, but an accurate copy, complete in all things — names and heights and soundings — with the single exception of the red crosses and the written notes. Sharp as must have been his annoyance, Silver had the strength of mind to hide it.
“Yes, sir,” said he, “this is the spot, to be sure, and very prettily drawed out. Who might have done that, I wonder? The pyrates were too ignorant, I reckon. Aye, here it is: ‘Capt. Kidd’s Anchorage’— just the name my shipmate called it. There’s a strong current runs along the south, and then away nor’ard up the west coast. Right you was, sir,” says he, “to haul your wind and keep the weather of the island. Leastways, if such was your intention as to enter and careen, and there ain’t no better place for that in these waters.”
“Thank you, my man,” says Captain Smollett. “I’ll ask you later on to give us a help. You may go.”
I was surprised at the coolness with which John avowed his knowledge of the island, and I own I was half- frightened when I saw him drawing nearer to myself. He did not know, to be sure, that I had overheard his council from the apple barrel, and yet I had by this time taken such a horror of his cruelty, duplicity, and power that I could scarce conceal a shudder when he laid his hand upon my arm.
“Ah,” says he, “this here is a sweet spot, this island — a sweet spot for a lad to get ashore on. You’ll bathe, and you’ll climb trees, and you’ll hunt goats, you will; and you’ll get aloft on them hills like a goat yourself. Why, it makes me young again. I was going to forget my timber leg, I was. It’s a pleasant thing to be young and have ten toes, and you may lay to that. When you want to go a bit of exploring, you just ask old John, and he’ll put up a snack for you to take along.”
And clapping me in the friendliest way upon the shoulder, he hobbled off forward and went below.
Captain Smollett, the squire, and Dr. Livesey were talking together on the quarter-deck, and anxious as I was to tell them my story, I durst not interrupt them openly. While I was still casting about in my thoughts to find some probable excuse, Dr. Livesey called me to his side. He had left his pipe below, and being a slave to tobacco, had meant that I should fetch it; but as soon as I was near enough to speak and not