Everand Logo

Welcome to Everand!

  • Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

    Only $9.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

    Treasure Island
    Treasure Island
    Treasure Island
    Ebook295 pages4 hours

    Treasure Island

    By Robert Louis Stevenson and Louis Rhead

    4/5

    ()

    Switch to audiobook
    Read preview

    About this ebook

    Jim Hawkins thinks his life is rather dull…until he discovers a treasure map belonging to the infamous pirate Captain Flint. Jim sets off with a crew to search for the buried gold. But not all of the crew members have the best of intentions, and Jim soon finds himself in the middle of a battle between honest men, mutineers, and pirates. This quintessential adventure story by Scottish author Robert Louis Stevenson was first published in book form in 1883. This unabridged edition includes illustrations by English-born American artist Louis Rhead, which were first published in 1915.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherLerner Publishing
    Release dateJan 1, 2015
    ISBN9781467787673
    Author

    Robert Louis Stevenson

    Robert Louis Stevenson (1850–1894) spent his childhood in Edinburgh, Scotland, but traveled widely in the United States and throughout the South Seas. He was author of many novels, including The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Kidnapped, The Black Arrow, and Treasure Island.

    Read more from Robert Louis Stevenson

    Related to Treasure Island

    Titles in the series (100)

    View More
    View More

    Related ebooks

    YA Classics For You

    View More
    View More

    Related podcast episodes

    Related articles

    • Article

      Drifting Into Antiquity

      Aug 20, 2019

      Drifting Into Antiquity
      11 min read

    • Article

      Ask Trask

      Feb 2, 2024

      Ask Trask
      3 min read

    • Article

      Fishing as Family

      Jul 12, 2022

      Fishing as Family
      4 min read

    • Article

      Time Out

      May 1, 2020

      Time Out
      6 min read

    • Article

      Time Out

      May 1, 2020

      Hemingway: a real man’s man; red wine, bulls and wrestling with fish were all central themes of a life of unremitting machismo. Having read a bit of Ernest in my time, I generally find that he spends a good deal of time droning on about death, impote

      6 min read

    • Article

      Smells Fishy

      Jul 13, 2020

      Smells Fishy
      3 min read

    • Article

      On the Run

      Oct 2, 2018

      On the Run
      3 min read

    • Article

      Tom Cunliffe

      Nov 6, 2020

      Tom Cunliffe
      5 min read

    • Article

      Tom Cunliffe

      Nov 6, 2020

      Tom Cunliffe
      5 min read

    • Article

      Time Out

      Aug 30, 2019

      E.F Knight’s Cruise of the Alerte is one of those sailing books that has all the classic ingredients for a ripping yarn. A cruise in a small boat to an exotic location, a few rows along the way and a fruitless hunt for treasure at the end of it. Knig

      5 min read

    • Article

      Leaf Season

      Sep 16, 2024

      Leaf Season
      14 min read

    • Article

      Following The Flow

      Aug 31, 2019

      Following The Flow
      11 min read

    • Article

      A Round-up Of The Latest BOOKS

      Oct 11, 2024

      For all its popularity, there is a gap in the market for a book that teaches you the basics of sailing a tall ship. There are ‘tall ship’ charters, then there are the thousands upon thousands of young people who, for decades, have found themselves at

      5 min read

    • Article

      A Book To Get Lost In

      Feb 17, 2020

      A Book To Get Lost In
      7 min read

    • Article

      Time Out

      Jan 28, 2022

      Time Out
      3 min read

    • Article

      Time Out

      Jan 28, 2022

      Time Out
      3 min read

    • Article

      Tarred Yarns And Shanties

      Dec 9, 2022

      Tarred Yarns And Shanties
      5 min read

    • Article

      ACT & REFLECT

      May 21, 2021

      ACT & REFLECT
      10 min read

    • Article

      A Winter’s Tale

      Dec 29, 2020

      A Winter’s Tale
      6 min read

    • Article

      Time Out

      Mar 27, 2020

      Time Out
      5 min read

    • Article

      River Kismet

      Jul 21, 2020

      River Kismet
      9 min read

    • Article

      French Connection

      Sep 18, 2023

      French Connection
      7 min read

    • Article

      The Armchair Angler

      Oct 5, 2021

      Custom House The most influential and recognizable family name in American fly-fishing literature is undoubtedly the Macleans of Missoula, Montana. In Home Waters, John Maclean — son of Norman Maclean, the author of A River Runs Through It — offers a

      2 min read

    • Article

      Tempting Fate

      May 11, 2023

      Read about sailing all your life and you won’t find another book quite like Bound for Cape Horn, with its interesting subtitle Skills for Expedition Cruising. Any suggestion this might be yet another text book on how to do it is dissipated in the ope

      7 min read

    • Article

      A Watery Graveyard Revisited

      Apr 27, 2023

      A Watery Graveyard Revisited
      2 min read

    • Article

      Time Out

      Jun 28, 2019

      By Randal Charlton Three Sisters Publishing, £11.99 ISBN 978-17336204-0-6 In June 1957 a little ship heaved, pitched and rolled into the harbour at Plymouth, Massachusetts. It was greeted by 100,000 spectators, including the then vice-president Ric

      3 min read

    Related categories

    Reviews for Treasure Island

    4/5

    5,508 ratings176 reviews

    What did you think?

    Tap to rate

    Review must be at least 10 words

    • 4/5
      YAAARR. This be a tale of scallywags and high seas. Adventure be at it's finest, and the rum flows like water me lads.
    • 1/5
      I listened to the audio and read the book. It never got any better. My eyes went over the words but I do not know what really happens in the book. I used wikipedia to try and separate the characters but there were just too many. The only thing I really remember is about the apple barrell.
      But I gave it all I had.
    • 4/5
      Very enjoyable as an audiobook. The reader does a fantastic job with the voices and the emotion.
    • 4/5
      I usually dislike reading classics because the writing style is so different from what we read every day. But, RLS style was not offsetting, maybe because I expected the “pirate” style of talking and so wasn’t distracted by mentally trying to rewrite the text. And, with any adventure story you must be in the frame of mind for the adventure. I put down several times because I couldn’t settle into the story, but once my attention was attached I could not put it down.
    • 3/5
      Not really my cup of tea, but I can understand why it's a classic.
    • 5/5
      Come and join us in a wonderful adventure story. Pirates, parrots, treasure maps. One of the most complicated villains in all of Victorian literature. An exotic setting, an exotic time frame. Who could ask for more?At a coastal inn, a mysterious and somewhat evil man takes up residence. Soon he’s pursued my creepy foes. What ensues is the most influential pirate story ever. Stevenson was admittedly aiming at a young male audience, but a reader would need to be unimaginative in the extreme not to get caught up in Jim Hawkins’ adventures on the high seas. Definitely recommended.
    • 4/5
      YAAARR. This be a tale of scallywags and high seas. Adventure be at it's finest, and the rum flows like water me lads.
    • 4/5
      Think I read this at primary school, though it may have been early days at secondary school, so will say circa 1986 as a guess. Certainly enjoyed it at the time, as I was always into this type of tale, along with watching several adaptations of this book. Unsure whether I'd appreciate it as much if I read this as an adult, but either way it deserves at least four stars.
    • 5/5
      Certainly a classic - Treasure Island first captivated me as a child, and did not fail to hold my attention now as an adult. Like many books I've read again as I've grown older, there were things I understood better, plot twists I could see but that nonetheless took me on a wildly exciting adventure like the one of my youth. I think this will always be a favorite for me - I love pirates, and the ones in Treasure Island were my very first taste of them. Not the ninnies or idiots of more recent pirate movie standards, these are true swashbuckling terrors, and I will always admire Jim for his adventurous spirit.
    • 4/5
      I thought this book was pretty neat. I read a super old edition my dad had when he was in school. It totally made me want to watch Muppet treasure island, one of my favorite movies growing up. After reading the book i am better able to appreciate some of the humor in the movie, like "you killed dead tom" and the talking crab that is supposed to be the parrot captain flint.
    • 5/5
      Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson was an excellent book that I enjoyed reading. I like adventures and have not read a lot of pirate stories but this was one that I liked. I could see this story being well perceived by young and old as well. I would recommend this to be read by others.
    • 4/5
      This was a lot of fun to read. I don't know what to say. It's a classic adventure. If you like pirates, read it.
    • 4/5
      I really enjoyed reading through this. It's a great adventure tale, and it has been deemed a classic for good reason.

      A lot of my reading was colored by the number of times I've seen various film adaptations of the story, and I must say I was impressed that no film version I have ever seen accurately represents the entire story. One will get these things right, another will get those things right, and all of them will miss out on this tidbit, or that one. But I liked the book a great deal.

      It doesn't get five stars for... some reason or another. I don't quite remember. My brain is a little frazzled right now, for personal reasons; perhaps I will amend this review later if I think of more details.
    • 2/5
      It was exciting story and sometimes thrilled me. A boy, Jim goes to find the tresure whichi is on the map he has got accidentaly with pirates. He risks his life but finally he successes to get the tresure. He says he never want to go again but he will never forget the adventure he had.
    • 5/5
      Jim Hawkins narrates this story of the search for buried treasure. Main characters include Dr. livesey, Trelawney, capt Smolttet, Long John Silver and members of the crew.
    • 4/5
      A fun classic. Highly recommend for every adolescent boy on earth!
    • 5/5
      So glad I finally read this book.
    • 4/5
      The classic tale of pirates and English gentleman, and a boy. Going back and reading this as an adult, I can't believe how predictable it was. I honestly couldn't remember all of the plot points from reading it as a child, but you could see most of the events coming a mile away none the less. This is one of those classic pieces of British work that wraps up all too neatly, and all of the pieces fall right into place without too much fuss. The words are well chosen, and the novel well written, but I'm sad to say that for me it doesn't stand the test of time.
    • 3/5
      this book is not a book for me not enough action and just boring
    • 5/5
      Excellent book! Robert Louis Stevenson was skilled with words and the art of storytelling. I was impressed by so many things in this book. First and foremost the grim pirate adventure. He spared few on this harsh and bloody treasure hunt, painting a pirate's life in its truest colors. Stevenson's descriptive ability proved masterful, especially regarding his detailed writeup of ship handling. Silver's character unfolded beautifully - a sly, wise buccaneer expert in the art of manipulating people. It was interesting to watch him change sides here and there in the story, making his character the most dangerous of villians, and the one to get away. And yet, as awful as he was, the fact that he escaped hanging and even heisted some of the treasure earns its own strange sense of relief. This book was a joy to read, not to mention a true lesson in the art of writing. I loved it!
    • 5/5
      Action adventure story of Jim Hawkins and Long John Silver. I enjoyed this classic. I'm not sure that it is for children but I had a good time reading it. It was fun reading the phrases that come to mind when thinking of pirates of days gone by (Shiver my timbers, Yo Ho Ho and a bottle of rum.) It's also nice to know that the classic Mr. Magoo Illustrated Classics cartoon followed the book very well. This is a fun read.
    • 5/5
      I love the way the sea cook is introduced!
    • 5/5
      Read it along with Cassidy this summer. Never read it before. Enjoyed it very much.
    • 4/5
      Good adventure story at any age. I never read it as a child as it was considered a boy's book. It's a great tale, very fast paced with interesting characters.
    • 3/5
      This is a fun adventure book, and introduced all our pirate stereotypes. For adults, its a good lighthearted jaunt, for younger reader it would be very exciting. Hidden treasure, pirates, the sea..what's not to like?
    • 4/5
      I read the "Jr." version of this as a kid and enjoyed it again as a 40 year old... I'm looking forward to reading this, a chapter a night, to my son & daughter when they're a little older.
    • 5/5
      A very great classic, and no one needs me to inform them of this fact. Of the many, many pleasures this book holds in store, let me just mention the riveting chapter on Israel Hands, a character based on the real-life second in command to Blackbeard himself, whose creepy conversation, struggle with , and pursuit of Jim Hawkins ends with a deadly encounter on the mizzen-mast. Even now, many years later, I recall my own instinctive recoil and shudder as the knife found its home.
    • 4/5
      A fantastic swashbuckling adventure!
    • 5/5
      Wow! This is the first time I experience a novel on audio. My reading experience was magnified, the story seemed more alive and personal. I don't know why I waited so long to hear a novel on audio. I will definitely give my future students the choice of enjoying stories this way too. I didn't care too much about the plot of the story and the words were a bit complicated for me, but I really enjoyed many of the character traits. I gets pirate stories have never appealed to me.
    • 4/5
      Jim Hawkins is running an inn with his parents when an old drunk captain, Billy Bones, over stays his welcome and eventually dies on their premises after being confronted by other sailors. Jim knows the captain had a chest and ransacks it and finds a map. After fleeing he comes in contact with Captain Smollett and they decide together to go after the treasure which is located on an island. They hire a crew one of which is Long John Silver but during the voyage the crew headed by Long John, mutinies. Once on the island the captain and a few others grab supplies and run. There are a few scourges between the two parties and many are left dead or injured. Jim scours the island finds a lost sailor, Ben Gunn, who had been left by Billy Bones. Ben has been alone on the island and little does everyone know he has found the treasure and hidden it elsewhere. Jim also recovers the ship which has been left unattended minus one sailor who he eventually kills. The mutineers discover the loss of the treasure and go crazy eventually allowing the captain and his remaining crew to get to the ship, collect the treasure hidden by Ben, who has now joined them, and set sail back to England. Long John Silver also rejoins them and by orders from England the captain can do nothing to him but along their journey home Long John Silver abandons the ship and is never seen again. The remaining crew return home and a few take advantage of their new found wealth while others flounder it. A classic tale of the good guys triumphing and conquering to the end.

    Book preview

    Treasure Island - Robert Louis Stevenson

    Map

    PART ONE—THE OLD BUCCANEER

    1

    THE OLD SEA-DOG AT THE ADMIRAL BENBOW

    SQUIRE TRELAWNEY, Dr. Livesey, and the rest of these gentlemen having asked me to write down the whole particulars about Treasure Island, from the beginning to the end, keeping nothing back but the bearings of the island, and that only because there is still treasure not yet lifted, I take up my pen in the year of grace 17__ and go back to the time when my father kept the Admiral Benbow inn and the brown old seaman with the sabre cut first took up his lodging under our roof.

    I remember him as if it were yesterday, as he came plodding to the inn door, his sea-chest following behind him in a hand-barrow—a tall, strong, heavy, nut-brown man, his tarry pigtail falling over the shoulder of his soiled blue coat, his hands ragged and scarred, with black, broken nails, and the sabre cut across one cheek, a dirty, livid white. I remember him looking round the cover and whistling to himself as he did so, and then breaking out in that old sea-song that he sang so often afterwards:

    "Fifteen men on the dead man’s chest—

    Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!"

    in the high, old tottering voice that seemed to have been tuned and broken at the capstan bars. Then he rapped on the door with a bit of stick like a handspike that he carried, and when my father appeared, called roughly for a glass of rum. This, when it was brought to him, he drank slowly, like a connoisseur, lingering on the taste and still looking about him at the cliffs and up at our signboard.

    This is a handy cove, says he at length; and a pleasant sittyated grog-shop. Much company, mate?

    My father told him no, very little company, the more was the pity.

    Well, then, said he, this is the berth for me. Here you, matey, he cried to the man who trundled the barrow; bring up alongside and help up my chest. I’ll stay here a bit, he continued. I’m a plain man; rum and bacon and eggs is what I want, and that head up there for to watch ships off. What you mought call me? You mought call me captain. Oh, I see what you’re at—there; and he threw down three or four gold pieces on the threshold. You can tell me when I’ve worked through that, says he, looking as fierce as a commander.

    And indeed bad as his clothes were and coarsely as he spoke, he had none of the appearance of a man who sailed before the mast, but seemed like a mate or skipper accustomed to be obeyed or to strike. The man who came with the barrow told us the mail had set him down the morning before at the Royal George, that he had inquired what inns there were along the coast, and hearing ours well spoken of, I suppose, and described as lonely, had chosen it from the others for his place of residence. And that was all we could learn of our guest.

    He was a very silent man by custom. All day he hung round the cove or upon the cliffs with a brass telescope; all evening he sat in a corner of the parlour next the fire and drank rum and water very strong. Mostly he would not speak when spoken to, only look up sudden and fierce and blow through his nose like a fog-horn; and we and the people who came about our house soon learned to let him be. Every day when he came back from his stroll he would ask if any seafaring men had gone by along the road. At first we thought it was the want of company of his own kind that made him ask this question, but at last we began to see he was desirous to avoid them. When a seaman did put up at the Admiral Benbow (as now and then some did, making by the coast road for Bristol) he would look in at him through the curtained door before he entered the parlour; and he was always sure to be as silent as a mouse when any such was present. For me, at least, there was no secret about the matter, for I was, in a way, a sharer in his alarms. He had taken me aside one day and promised me a silver fourpenny on the first of every month if I would only keep my weather-eye open for a seafaring man with one leg and let him know the moment he appeared. Often enough when the first of the month came round and I applied to him for my wage, he would only blow through his nose at me and stare me down, but before the week was out he was sure to think better of it, bring me my four-penny piece, and repeat his orders to look out for the seafaring man with one leg.

    How that personage haunted my dreams, I need scarcely tell you. On stormy nights, when the wind shook the four corners of the house and the surf roared along the cove and up the cliffs, I would see him in a thousand forms, and with a thousand diabolical expressions. Now the leg would be cut off at the knee, now at the hip; now he was a monstrous kind of a creature who had never had but the one leg, and that in the middle of his body. To see him leap and run and pursue me over hedge and ditch was the worst of nightmares. And altogether I paid pretty dear for my monthly fourpenny piece, in the shape of these abominable fancies.

    But though I was so terrified by the idea of the seafaring man with one leg, I was far less afraid of the captain himself than anybody else who knew him. There were nights when he took a deal more rum and water than his head would carry; and then he would sometimes sit and sing his wicked, old, wild sea-songs, minding nobody; but sometimes he would call for glasses round and force all the trembling company to listen to his stories or bear a chorus to his singing. Often I have heard the house shaking with Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum, all the neighbours joining in for dear life, with the fear of death upon them, and each singing louder than the other to avoid remark. For in these fits he was the most overriding companion ever known; he would slap his hand on the table for silence all round; he would fly up in a passion of anger at a question, or sometimes because none was put, and so he judged the company was not following his story. Nor would he allow anyone to leave the inn till he had drunk himself sleepy and reeled off to bed.

    His stories were what frightened people worst of all. Dreadful stories they were—about hanging, and walking the plank, and storms at sea, and the Dry Tortugas, and wild deeds and places on the Spanish Main. By his own account he must have lived his life among some of the wickedest men that God ever allowed upon the sea, and the language in which he told these stories shocked our plain country people almost as much as the crimes that he described. My father was always saying the inn would be ruined, for people would soon cease coming there to be tyrannized over and put down, and sent shivering to their beds; but I really believe his presence did us good. People were frightened at the time, but on looking back they rather liked it; it was a fine excitement in a quiet country life, and there was even a party of the younger men who pretended to admire him, calling him a true sea-dog and a real old salt and such like names, and saying there was the sort of man that made England terrible at sea.

    In one way, indeed, he bade fair to ruin us, for he kept on staying week after week, and at last month after month, so that all the money had been long exhausted, and still my father never plucked up the heart to insist on having more. If ever he mentioned it, the captain blew through his nose so loudly that you might say he roared, and stared my poor father out of the room. I have seen him wringing his hands after such a rebuff, and I am sure the annoyance and the terror he lived in must have greatly hastened his early and unhappy death.

    All the time he lived with us the captain made no change whatever in his dress but to buy some stockings from a hawker. One of the cocks of his hat having fallen down, he let it hang from that day forth, though it was a great annoyance when it blew. I remember the appearance of his coat, which he patched himself upstairs in his room, and which, before the end, was nothing but patches. He never wrote or received a letter, and he never spoke with any but the neighbours, and with these, for the most part, only when drunk on rum. The great sea-chest none of us had ever seen open.

    He was only once crossed, and that was towards the end, when my poor father was far gone in a decline that took him off. Dr. Livesey came late one afternoon to see the patient, took a bit of dinner from my mother, and went into the parlour to smoke a pipe until his horse should come down from the hamlet, for we had no stabling at the old Benbow. I followed him in, and I remember observing the contrast the neat, bright doctor, with his powder as white as snow and his bright, black eyes and pleasant manners, made with the coltish country folk, and above all, with that filthy, heavy, bleared scarecrow of a pirate of ours, sitting, far gone in rum, with his arms on the table. Suddenly he—the captain, that is—began to pipe up his eternal song:

    "Fifteen men on the dead man’s chest—

    Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!

    Drink and the devil had done for the rest—

    Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!"

    At first I had supposed the dead man’s chest to be that identical big box of his upstairs in the front room, and the thought had been mingled in my nightmares with that of the one-legged seafaring man. But by this time we had all long ceased to pay any particular notice to the song; it was new, that night, to nobody but Dr. Livesey, and on him I observed it did not produce an agreeable effect, for he looked up for a moment quite angrily before he went on with his talk to old Taylor, the gardener, on a new cure for the rheumatics. In the meantime, the captain gradually brightened up at his own music, and at last flapped his hand upon the table before him in a way we all knew to mean silence. The voices stopped at once, all but Dr. Livesey’s; he went on as before speaking clear and kind and drawing briskly at his pipe between every word or two. The captain glared at him for a while, flapped his hand again, glared still harder, and at last broke out with a villainous, low oath, Silence, there, between decks!

    Were you addressing me, sir? says the doctor; and when the ruffian had told him, with another oath, that this was so, I have only one thing to say to you, sir, replies the doctor, that if you keep on drinking rum, the world will soon be quit of a very dirty scoundrel!

    The old fellow’s fury was awful. He sprang to his feet, drew and opened a sailor’s clasp-knife, and balancing it open on the palm of his hand, threatened to pin the doctor to the wall.

    The doctor never so much as moved. He spoke to him as before, over his shoulder and in the same tone of voice, rather high, so that all the room might hear, but perfectly calm and steady: If you do not put that knife this instant in your pocket, I promise, upon my honour, you shall hang at the next assizes.

    If you do not put that knife this instant in your pocket, you shall hang at the next assizes

    "Then followed a battle of looks between them, but the captain soon knuckled under, put up his weapon, and resumed his seat, grumbling like a beaten dog.

    And now, sir, continued the doctor, since I now know there’s such a fellow in my district, you may count I’ll have an eye upon you day and night. I’m not a doctor only; I’m a magistrate; and if I catch a breath of complaint against you, if it’s only for a piece of incivility like tonight’s, I’ll take effectual means to have you hunted down and routed out of this. Let that suffice.

    Soon after, Dr. Livesey’s horse came to the door and he rode away, but the captain held his peace that evening, and for many evenings to come.

    2

    BLACK DOG APPEARS AND DISAPPEARS

    IT was not very long after this that there occurred the first of the mysterious events that rid us at last of the captain, though not, as you will see, of his affairs. It was a bitter cold winter, with long, hard frosts and heavy gales; and it was plain from the first that my poor father was little likely to see the spring. He sank daily, and my mother and I had all the inn upon our hands, and were kept busy enough without paying much regard to our unpleasant guest.

    It was one January morning, very early—a pinching, frosty morning—the cove all grey with hoar-frost, the ripple lapping softly on the stones, the sun still low and only touching the hilltops and shining far to seaward. The captain had risen earlier than usual and set out down the beach, his cutlass swinging under the broad skirts of the old blue coat, his brass telescope under his arm, his hat tilted back upon his head. I remember his breath hanging like smoke in his wake as he strode off, and the last sound I heard of him as he turned the big rock was a loud snort of indignation, as though his mind was still running upon Dr. Livesey.

    Well, mother was upstairs with father and I was laying the breakfast-table against the captain’s return when the parlour door opened and a man stepped in on whom I had never set my eyes before. He was a pale, tallowy creature, wanting two fingers of the left hand, and though he wore a cutlass, he did not look much like a fighter. I had always my eye open for seafaring men, with one leg or two, and I remember this one puzzled me. He was not sailorly, and yet he had a smack of the sea about him too.

    I asked him what was for his service, and he said he would take rum; but as I was going out of the room to fetch it, he sat down upon a table and motioned me to draw near. I paused where I was, with my napkin in my hand.

    Come here, sonny, says he. Come nearer here.

    I took a step nearer.

    Is this here table for my mate Bill? he asked with a kind of leer.

    I told him I did not know his mate Bill, and this was for a person who stayed in our house whom we called the captain.

    Well, said he, my mate Bill would be called the captain, as like as not. He has a cut on one cheek and a mighty pleasant way with him, particularly in drink, has my mate Bill. We’ll put it, for argument like, that your captain has a cut on one cheek—and we’ll put it, if you like, that that cheek’s the right one. Ah, well! I told you. Now, is my mate Bill in this here house?

    I told him he was out walking.

    Which way, sonny? Which way is he gone?

    And when I had pointed out the rock and told him how the captain was likely to return, and how soon, and answered a few other questions, Ah, said he, this’ll be as good as drink to my mate Bill.

    The expression of his face as he said these words was not at all pleasant, and I had my own reasons for thinking that the stranger was mistaken, even supposing he meant what he said. But it was no affair of mine, I thought; and besides, it was difficult to know what to do. The stranger kept hanging about just inside the inn door, peering round the corner like a cat waiting for a mouse. Once I stepped out myself into the road, but he immediately called me back, and as I did not obey quick enough for his fancy, a most horrible change came over his tallowy face, and he ordered me in with an oath that made me jump. As soon as I was back again he returned to his former manner, half fawning, half sneering, patted me on the shoulder, told me I was a good boy and he had taken quite a fancy to me. I have a son of my own, said he, as like you as two blocks, and he’s all the pride of my ’art. But the great thing for boys is discipline, sonny—discipline. Now, if you had sailed along of Bill, you wouldn’t have stood there to be spoke to twice—not you. That was never Bill’s way, nor the way of sich as sailed with him. And here, sure enough, is my mate Bill, with a spy-glass under his arm, bless his old ’art, to be sure. You and me’ll just go back into the parlour, sonny, and get behind the door, and we’ll give Bill a little surprise—bless his ’art, I say again.

    So saying, the stranger backed along with me into the parlour and put me behind him in the corner so that we were both hidden by the open door. I was very uneasy and alarmed, as you may fancy, and it rather added to my fears to observe that the stranger was certainly frightened himself. He cleared the hilt of his cutlass and loosened the blade in the sheath; and all the time we were waiting there he kept swallowing as if he felt what we used to call a lump in the throat.

    At last in strode the captain, slammed the door behind him, without looking to the right or left, and marched straight across the room to where his breakfast awaited him.

    Bill, said the stranger in a voice that I thought he had tried to make bold and big.

    The captain spun round on his heel and fronted us; all the brown had gone out of his face, and even his nose was blue; he had the look of a man who sees a ghost, or the evil one, or something worse, if anything can be; and upon my word, I felt sorry to see him all in a moment turn so old and sick.

    Come, Bill, you know me; you know an old shipmate, Bill, surely, said the stranger.

    The captain made a sort of gasp.

    Black Dog! said he.

    And who else? returned the other, getting more at his ease. Black Dog as ever was, come for to see his old shipmate Billy, at the Admiral Benbow inn. Ah, Bill, Bill, we have seen a sight of times, us two, since I lost them two talons, holding up his mutilated hand.

    Now, look here, said the captain; you’ve run me down; here I am; well, then, speak up; what is it?

    That’s you, Bill, returned Black Dog, you’re in the right of it, Billy. I’ll have a glass of rum from this dear child here, as I’ve took such a liking to; and we’ll sit down, if you please, and talk square, like old shipmates.

    When I returned with the rum, they were already seated on either side of the captain’s breakfast-table—Black Dog next to the door and sitting sideways so as to have one eye on his old shipmate and one, as I thought, on his retreat.

    He bade me go and leave the door wide open. None of your keyholes for me, sonny, he said; and I left them together and retired into the bar.

    For a long time, though I certainly did my best to listen, I could hear nothing but a low gattling;

    Enjoying the preview?
    Page 1 of 1