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Ilostnotime,ofcourse,intellingmymotherallthatIknew,andperhapsshouldhavetoldherlongbefore,andwesawourselvesatonceinadifficultanddangerousposition.
Someoftheman’smoney—ifhehadany—wascertainlyduetous,butitwasnotlikelythatourcaptain’sshipmates,aboveallthetwospecimensseenbyme,BlackDogandtheblindbeggar,wouldbeinclinedtogiveuptheirbootyinpaymentofthedeadman’sdebts.
Thecaptain’sordertomountatonceandrideforDoctorLiveseywouldhaveleftmymotheraloneandunprotected,whichwasnottobethoughtof.
Indeed,itseemedimpossibleforeitherofustoremainmuchlongerinthehouse;thefallofcoalsinthekitchengrate,theverytickingoftheclock,filleduswithalarms.
Theneighbourhood,toourears,seemedhauntedbyapproachingfootsteps;andwhatbetweenthedeadbodyofthecaptainontheparlourfloorandthethoughtofthatdetestableblindbeggarhoveringnearathandandreadytoreturn,thereweremomentswhen,asthesayinggoes,Ijumpedinmyskinforterror.
Somethingmustspeedilyberesolvedupon,anditoccurredtousatlasttogoforthtogetherandseekhelpintheneighbouringhamlet.Nosoonersaidthandone.
Bare-headedaswewere,weranoutatonceinthegatheringeveningandthefrostyfog.
Thehamletlaynotmanyhundredyardsaway,thoughoutofview,ontheothersideofthenextcove;andwhatgreatlyencouragedme,itwasinanoppositedirectionfromthatwhencetheblindmanhadmadehisappearanceandwhitherhehadpresumablyreturned.
Wewerenotmanyminutesontheroad,thoughwesometimesstoppedtolayholdofeachotherandhearken.
Buttherewasnounusualsound—nothingbutthelowwashoftherippleandthecroakingoftheinmatesofthewood.
Itwasalreadycandle-lightwhenwereachedthehamlet,andIshallneverforgethowmuchIwascheeredtoseetheyellowshineindoorsandwindows;butthat,asitproved,wasthebestofthehelpwewerelikelytogetinthatquarter.
For—youwouldhavethoughtmenwouldhavebeenashamedofthemselves—nosoulwouldconsenttoreturnwithustotheAdmiralBenbow.
Themorewetoldofourtroubles,themore—man,woman,andchild—theyclungtotheshelteroftheirhouses.
ThenameofCaptainFlint,thoughitwasstrangetome,waswellenoughknowntosomethereandcarriedagreatweightofterror.
Someofthemenwhohadbeentofield-workonthefarsideoftheAdmiralBenbowremembered,besides,tohaveseenseveralstrangersontheroad,andtakingthemtobesmugglers,tohaveboltedaway;andoneatleasthadseenalittleluggerinwhatwecalledKitt’sHole.
Forthatmatter,anyonewhowasacomradeofthecaptain’swasenoughtofrightenthemtodeath.
Andtheshortandthelongofthematterwas,thatwhilewecouldgetseveralwhowerewillingenoughtoridetoDr.Livesey’s,whichlayinanotherdirection,notonewouldhelpustodefendtheinn.
Theysaycowardiceisinfectious;butthenargumentis,ontheotherhand,agreatemboldener;andsowheneachhadsaidhissay,mymothermadethemaspeech.
Shewouldnot,shedeclared,losemoneythatbelongedtoherfatherlessboy;“Ifnoneoftherestofyoudare,”shesaid,“JimandIdare.
Backwewillgo,thewaywecame,andsmallthankstoyoubig,hulking,chicken-heartedmen.
We’llhavethatchestopen,ifwedieforit.
AndI’llthankyouforthatbag,Mrs.Crossley,tobringbackourlawfulmoneyin.”
OfcourseIsaidIwouldgowithmymother,andofcoursetheyallcriedoutatourfoolhardiness,buteventhennotamanwouldgoalongwithus.
Alltheywoulddowastogivemealoadedpistollestwewereattacked,andtopromisetohavehorsesreadysaddledincasewewerepursuedonourreturn,whileoneladwastorideforwardtothedoctor’sinsearchofarmedassistance.
Myheartwasbeatingfinelywhenwetwosetforthinthecoldnightuponthisdangerousventure.
Afullmoonwasbeginningtoriseandpeeredredlythroughtheupperedgesofthefog,andthisincreasedourhaste,foritwasplain,beforewecameforthagain,thatallwouldbeasbrightasday,andourdepartureexposedtotheeyesofanywatchers.
Weslippedalongthehedges,noiselessandswift,nordidweseeorhearanythingtoincreaseourterrors,till,toourrelief,thedooroftheAdmiralBenbowhadclosedbehindus.
Islippedtheboltatonce,andwestoodandpantedforamomentinthedark,aloneinthehousewiththedeadcaptain’sbody.
Thenmymothergotacandleinthebar,andholdingeachother’shands,weadvancedintotheparlour.
Helayaswehadlefthim,onhisback,withhiseyesopenandonearmstretchedout.
“Drawdowntheblind,Jim,”whisperedmymother;“theymightcomeandwatchoutside.
Andnow,”saidshewhenIhaddoneso,“wehavetogetthekeyoffTHAT;andwho’stotouchit,Ishouldliketoknow!”
andshegaveakindofsobasshesaidthewords.
Iwentdownonmykneesatonce.Onthefloorclosetohishandtherewasalittleroundofpaper,blackenedontheoneside.
IcouldnotdoubtthatthiswastheBLACKSPOT;andtakingitup,Ifoundwrittenontheotherside,inaverygood,clearhand,thisshortmessage:“Youhavetilltentonight.”
“Hehadtillten,Mother,”saidI;andjustasIsaidit,ouroldclockbeganstriking.Thissuddennoisestartledusshockingly;butthenewswasgood,foritwasonlysix.
“Now,Jim,”shesaid,“thatkey.”
Ifeltinhispockets,oneafteranother.
Afewsmallcoins,athimble,andsomethreadandbigneedles,apieceofpigtailtobaccobittenawayattheend,hisgullywiththecrookedhandle,apocketcompass,andatinderboxwereallthattheycontained,andIbegantodespair.
“Perhapsit’sroundhisneck,”suggestedmymother.
Overcomingastrongrepugnance,Itoreopenhisshirtattheneck,andthere,sureenough,hangingtoabitoftarrystring,whichIcutwithhisowngully,wefoundthekey.
Atthistriumphwewerefilledwithhopeandhurriedupstairswithoutdelaytothelittleroomwherehehadsleptsolongandwherehisboxhadstoodsincethedayofhisarrival.
Itwaslikeanyotherseaman’schestontheoutside,theinitial“B”burnedonthetopofitwithahotiron,andthecornerssomewhatsmashedandbrokenasbylong,roughusage.
“Givemethekey,”saidmymother;andthoughthelockwasverystiff,shehadturneditandthrownbackthelidinatwinkling.
Astrongsmelloftobaccoandtarrosefromtheinterior,butnothingwastobeseenonthetopexceptasuitofverygoodclothes,carefullybrushedandfolded.
Theyhadneverbeenworn,mymothersaid.
Underthat,themiscellanybegan—aquadrant,atincanikin,severalsticksoftobacco,twobraceofveryhandsomepistols,apieceofbarsilver,anoldSpanishwatchandsomeothertrinketsoflittlevalueandmostlyofforeignmake,apairofcompassesmountedwithbrass,andfiveorsixcuriousWestIndianshells.
Ihaveoftenwonderedsincewhyheshouldhavecarriedabouttheseshellswithhiminhiswandering,guilty,andhuntedlife.
Inthemeantime,wehadfoundnothingofanyvaluebutthesilverandthetrinkets,andneitherofthesewereinourway.
Underneaththerewasanoldboat-cloak,whitenedwithsea-saltonmanyaharbour-bar.
Mymotherpulleditupwithimpatience,andtherelaybeforeus,thelastthingsinthechest,abundletiedupinoilcloth,andlookinglikepapers,andacanvasbagthatgaveforth,atatouch,thejingleofgold.
“I’llshowtheseroguesthatI’manhonestwoman,”saidmymother.
“I’llhavemydues,andnotafarthingover.HoldMrs.Crossley’sbag.”
Andshebegantocountovertheamountofthecaptain’sscorefromthesailor’sbagintotheonethatIwasholding.
Itwasalong,difficultbusiness,forthecoinswereofallcountriesandsizes—doubloons,andlouisd’ors,andguineas,andpiecesofeight,andIknownotwhatbesides,allshakentogetheratrandom.
Theguineas,too,wereaboutthescarcest,anditwaswiththeseonlythatmymotherknewhowtomakehercount.
Whenwewereabouthalf-waythrough,Isuddenlyputmyhanduponherarm,forIhadheardinthesilentfrostyairasoundthatbroughtmyheartintomymouth—thetap-tappingoftheblindman’sstickuponthefrozenroad.
Itdrewnearerandnearer,whilewesatholdingourbreath.
Thenitstrucksharpontheinndoor,andthenwecouldhearthehandlebeingturnedandtheboltrattlingasthewretchedbeingtriedtoenter;andthentherewasalongtimeofsilencebothwithinandwithout.
Atlastthetappingrecommenced,and,toourindescribablejoyandgratitude,diedslowlyawayagainuntilitceasedtobeheard.
“Mother,”saidI,“takethewholeandlet’sbegoing,”forIwassurethebolteddoormusthaveseemedsuspiciousandwouldbringthewholehornet’snestaboutourears,thoughhowthankfulIwasthatIhadboltedit,nonecouldtellwhohadnevermetthatterribleblindman.
Butmymother,frightenedasshewas,wouldnotconsenttotakeafractionmorethanwasduetoherandwasobstinatelyunwillingtobecontentwithless.
Itwasnotyetseven,shesaid,byalongway;sheknewherrightsandshewouldhavethem;andshewasstillarguingwithmewhenalittlelowwhistlesoundedagoodwayoffuponthehill.
Thatwasenough,andmorethanenough,forbothofus.
“I’lltakewhatIhave,”shesaid,jumpingtoherfeet.
“AndI’lltakethistosquarethecount,”saidI,pickinguptheoilskinpacket.
Nextmomentwewerebothgropingdownstairs,leavingthecandlebytheemptychest;andthenextwehadopenedthedoorandwereinfullretreat.Wehadnotstartedamomenttoosoon.
Thefogwasrapidlydispersing;alreadythemoonshonequiteclearonthehighgroundoneitherside;anditwasonlyintheexactbottomofthedellandroundthetaverndoorthatathinveilstillhungunbrokentoconcealthefirststepsofourescape.
Farlessthanhalf-waytothehamlet,verylittlebeyondthebottomofthehill,wemustcomeforthintothemoonlight.
Norwasthisall,forthesoundofseveralfootstepsrunningcamealreadytoourears,andaswelookedbackintheirdirection,alighttossingtoandfroandstillrapidlyadvancingshowedthatoneofthenewcomerscarriedalantern.
“Mydear,”saidmymothersuddenly,“takethemoneyandrunon.Iamgoingtofaint.”
Thiswascertainlytheendforbothofus,Ithought.
HowIcursedthecowardiceoftheneighbours;howIblamedmypoormotherforherhonestyandhergreed,forherpastfoolhardinessandpresentweakness!
Wewerejustatthelittlebridge,bygoodfortune;andIhelpedher,totteringasshewas,totheedgeofthebank,where,sureenough,shegaveasighandfellonmyshoulder.
IdonotknowhowIfoundthestrengthtodoitatall,andIamafraiditwasroughlydone,butImanagedtodragherdownthebankandalittlewayunderthearch.
FartherIcouldnotmoveher,forthebridgewastoolowtoletmedomorethancrawlbelowit.
Sotherewehadtostay—mymotheralmostentirelyexposedandbothofuswithinearshotoftheinn.
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