English
Thereneverwassuchanoverturninthisworld.
Eachofthesesixmenwasasthoughhehadbeenstruck.
ButwithSilvertheblowpassedalmostinstantly.
Everythoughtofhissoulhadbeensetfull-stretch,likearacer,onthatmoney;well,hewasbroughtup,inasinglesecond,dead;andhekepthishead,foundhistemper,andchangedhisplanbeforetheothershadhadtimetorealizethedisappointment.
“Jim,”hewhispered,“takethat,andstandbyfortrouble.”
Andhepassedmeadouble-barrelledpistol.
Atthesametime,hebeganquietlymovingnorthward,andinafewstepshadputthehollowbetweenustwoandtheotherfive.
Thenhelookedatmeandnodded,asmuchastosay,“Hereisanarrowcorner,”as,indeed,Ithoughtitwas.
Hislookswerenotquitefriendly,andIwassorevoltedattheseconstantchangesthatIcouldnotforbearwhispering,“Soyou’vechangedsidesagain.”
Therewasnotimeleftforhimtoanswerin.
Thebuccaneers,withoathsandcries,begantoleap,oneafteranother,intothepitandtodigwiththeirfingers,throwingtheboardsasideastheydidso.Morganfoundapieceofgold.
Hehelditupwithaperfectspoutofoaths.
Itwasatwo-guineapiece,anditwentfromhandtohandamongthemforaquarterofaminute.
“Twoguineas!”roaredMerry,shakingitatSilver.
“That’syoursevenhundredthousandpounds,isit?You’rethemanforbargains,ain’tyou?
You’rehimthatneverbunglednothing,youwooden-headedlubber!”
“Digaway,boys,”saidSilverwiththecoolestinsolence;“you’llfindsomepig-nutsandIshouldn’twonder.”
“Pig-nuts!”repeatedMerry,inascream.“Mates,doyouhearthat?Itellyounow,thatmanthereknewitallalong.Lookinthefaceofhimandyou’llseeitwrotethere.”
“Ah,Merry,”remarkedSilver,“standingforcap’nagain?You’reapushinglad,tobesure.”
ButthistimeeveryonewasentirelyinMerry’sfavour.
Theybegantoscrambleoutoftheexcavation,dartingfuriousglancesbehindthem.
OnethingIobserved,whichlookedwellforus:theyallgotoutupontheoppositesidefromSilver.
Well,therewestood,twoononeside,fiveontheother,thepitbetweenus,andnobodyscreweduphighenoughtoofferthefirstblow.
Silvernevermoved;hewatchedthem,veryuprightonhiscrutch,andlookedascoolaseverIsawhim.Hewasbrave,andnomistake.
AtlastMerryseemedtothinkaspeechmighthelpmatters.
“Mates,”sayshe,“there’stwoofthemalonethere;one’stheoldcripplethatbroughtusallhereandblunderedusdowntothis;theother’sthatcubthatImeantohavetheheartof.Now,mates—”
Hewasraisinghisarmandhisvoice,andplainlymeanttoleadacharge.Butjustthen—crack!crack!crack!
—threemusket-shotsflashedoutofthethicket.
Merrytumbledheadforemostintotheexcavation;themanwiththebandagespunroundlikeateetotumandfellallhislengthuponhisside,wherehelaydead,butstilltwitching;andtheotherthreeturnedandranforitwithalltheirmight.
Beforeyoucouldwink,LongJohnhadfiredtwobarrelsofapistolintothestrugglingMerry,andasthemanrolleduphiseyesathiminthelastagony,“George,”saidhe,“IreckonIsettledyou.”
Atthesamemoment,thedoctor,Gray,andBenGunnjoinedus,withsmokingmuskets,fromamongthenutmeg-trees.
“Forward!”criedthedoctor.“Doublequick,mylads.Wemusthead‘emofftheboats.”
Andwesetoffatagreatpace,sometimesplungingthroughthebushestothechest.
Itellyou,butSilverwasanxioustokeepupwithus.
Theworkthatmanwentthrough,leapingonhiscrutchtillthemusclesofhischestwerefittoburst,wasworknosoundmaneverequalled;andsothinksthedoctor.
Asitwas,hewasalreadythirtyyardsbehindusandonthevergeofstranglingwhenwereachedthebrowoftheslope.
“Doctor,”hehailed,“seethere!Nohurry!”
Sureenoughtherewasnohurry.Inamoreopenpartoftheplateau,wecouldseethethreesurvivorsstillrunninginthesamedirectionastheyhadstarted,rightforMizzenmastHill.
Wewerealreadybetweenthemandtheboats;andsowefoursatdowntobreathe,whileLongJohn,moppinghisface,cameslowlyupwithus.
“Thankyekindly,doctor,”sayshe.“Youcameininaboutthenick,Iguess,formeandHawkins.Andsoit’syou,BenGunn!”headded.“Well,you’reaniceone,tobesure.”
“I’mBenGunn,Iam,”repliedthemaroon,wrigglinglikeaneelinhisembarrassment.“And,”headded,afteralongpause,“howdo,Mr.Silver?Prettywell,Ithankye,saysyou.”
“Ben,Ben,”murmuredSilver,“tothinkasyou’vedoneme!”
ThedoctorsentbackGrayforoneofthepick-axesdeserted,intheirflight,bythemutineers,andthenasweproceededleisurelydownhilltowheretheboatswerelying,relatedinafewwordswhathadtakenplace.
ItwasastorythatprofoundlyinterestedSilver;andBenGunn,thehalf-idiotmaroon,wastheherofrombeginningtoend.
Ben,inhislong,lonelywanderingsabouttheisland,hadfoundtheskeleton—itwashethathadrifledit;hehadfoundthetreasure;hehaddugitup(itwasthehaftofhispick-axethatlaybrokenintheexcavation);hehadcarrieditonhisback,inmanywearyjourneys,fromthefootofthetallpinetoacavehehadonthetwo-pointedhillatthenorth-eastangleoftheisland,andthereithadlainstoredinsafetysincetwomonthsbeforethearrivaloftheHispaniola.
Whenthedoctorhadwormedthissecretfromhimontheafternoonoftheattack,andwhennextmorninghesawtheanchoragedeserted,hehadgonetoSilver,givenhimthechart,whichwasnowuseless—givenhimthestores,forBenGunn’scavewaswellsuppliedwithgoats’meatsaltedbyhimself—givenanythingandeverythingtogetachanceofmovinginsafetyfromthestockadetothetwo-pointedhill,theretobeclearofmalariaandkeepaguarduponthemoney.
“Asforyou,Jim,”hesaid,“itwentagainstmyheart,butIdidwhatIthoughtbestforthosewhohadstoodbytheirduty;andifyouwerenotoneofthese,whosefaultwasit?”
Thatmorning,findingthatIwastobeinvolvedinthehorriddisappointmenthehadpreparedforthemutineers,hehadrunallthewaytothecave,andleavingthesquiretoguardthecaptain,hadtakenGrayandthemaroonandstarted,makingthediagonalacrosstheislandtobeathandbesidethepine.
Soon,however,hesawthatourpartyhadthestartofhim;andBenGunn,beingfleetoffoot,hadbeendispatchedinfronttodohisbestalone.
Thenithadoccurredtohimtoworkuponthesuperstitionsofhisformershipmates,andhewassofarsuccessfulthatGrayandthedoctorhadcomeupandwerealreadyambushedbeforethearrivalofthetreasure-hunters.
“Ah,”saidSilver,“itwerefortunateformethatIhadHawkinshere.YouwouldhaveletoldJohnbecuttobits,andnevergivenitathought,doctor.”
“Notathought,”repliedDr.Liveseycheerily.
Andbythistimewehadreachedthegigs.Thedoctor,withthepick-axe,demolishedoneofthem,andthenweallgotaboardtheotherandsetouttogoroundbyseaforNorthInlet.
Thiswasarunofeightorninemiles.Silver,thoughhewasalmostkilledalreadywithfatigue,wassettoanoar,liketherestofus,andweweresoonskimmingswiftlyoverasmoothsea.
Soonwepassedoutofthestraitsanddoubledthesouth-eastcorneroftheisland,roundwhich,fourdaysago,wehadtowedtheHispaniola.
Aswepassedthetwo-pointedhill,wecouldseetheblackmouthofBenGunn’scaveandafigurestandingbyit,leaningonamusket.
Itwasthesquire,andwewavedahandkerchiefandgavehimthreecheers,inwhichthevoiceofSilverjoinedasheartilyasany.
Threemilesfarther,justinsidethemouthofNorthInlet,whatshouldwemeetbuttheHispaniola,cruisingbyherself?
Thelastfloodhadliftedher,andhadtherebeenmuchwindorastrongtidecurrent,asinthesouthernanchorage,weshouldneverhavefoundhermore,orfoundherstrandedbeyondhelp.
Asitwas,therewaslittleamissbeyondthewreckofthemain-sail.
Anotheranchorwasgotreadyanddroppedinafathomandahalfofwater.
WeallpulledroundagaintoRumCove,thenearestpointforBenGunn’streasure-house;andthenGray,single-handed,returnedwiththegigtotheHispaniola,wherehewastopassthenightonguard.
Agentlesloperanupfromthebeachtotheentranceofthecave.Atthetop,thesquiremetus.
Tomehewascordialandkind,sayingnothingofmyescapadeeitherinthewayofblameorpraise.
AtSilver’spolitesalutehesomewhatflushed.
“JohnSilver,”hesaid,“you’reaprodigiousvillainandimposter—amonstrousimposter,sir.IamtoldIamnottoprosecuteyou.Well,then,Iwillnot.
Butthedeadmen,sir,hangaboutyournecklikemill-stones.”
“Thankyoukindly,sir,”repliedLongJohn,againsaluting.
“Idareyoutothankme!”criedthesquire.“Itisagrossderelictionofmyduty.Standback.”
Andthereuponweallenteredthecave.Itwasalarge,airyplace,withalittlespringandapoolofclearwater,overhungwithferns.Thefloorwassand.
BeforeabigfirelayCaptainSmollett;andinafarcorner,onlyduskilyflickeredoverbytheblaze,Ibeheldgreatheapsofcoinandquadrilateralsbuiltofbarsofgold.
ThatwasFlint’streasurethatwehadcomesofartoseekandthathadcostalreadythelivesofseventeenmenfromtheHispaniola.
Howmanyithadcostintheamassing,whatbloodandsorrow,whatgoodshipsscuttledonthedeep,whatbravemenwalkingtheplankblindfold,whatshotofcannon,whatshameandliesandcruelty,perhapsnomanalivecouldtell.
Yettherewerestillthreeuponthatisland—Silver,andoldMorgan,andBenGunn—whohadeachtakenhisshareinthesecrimes,aseachhadhopedinvaintoshareinthereward.
“Comein,Jim,”saidthecaptain.“You’reagoodboyinyourline,Jim,butIdon’tthinkyouandme’llgotoseaagain.
You’retoomuchofthebornfavouriteforme.Isthatyou,JohnSilver?Whatbringsyouhere,man?”
“Comebacktomydooty,sir,”returnedSilver.
“Ah!”saidthecaptain,andthatwasallhesaid.
WhatasupperIhadofitthatnight,withallmyfriendsaroundme;andwhatamealitwas,withBenGunn’ssaltedgoatandsomedelicaciesandabottleofoldwinefromtheHispaniola.
Never,Iamsure,werepeoplegayerorhappier.
AndtherewasSilver,sittingbackalmostoutofthefirelight,buteatingheartily,prompttospringforwardwhenanythingwaswanted,evenjoiningquietlyinourlaughter—thesamebland,polite,obsequiousseamanofthevoyageout.
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