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01 - Treasure Island - Robert Louis Stevenson · Adventure Books Library

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Chapter one, at the Admiral Benbow, Squirelawney, doctor Livesey, and the
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rest of these gentlemen, having asked me to write down the whole particulars about
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Treasure Island from the beginning to the end, keeping nothing back but the bearings
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of the island, and that only because there is still treasure not yet lifted.
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I take up my pen in the year of Grace seventeen m and go
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back to the time when my father kept the Admiral Benbow Inn, and the
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brown old seaman with the saber cut first took up his lodging under a roof.
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I remember him as if it were yesterday, as he came plodding to
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the inn door, his sea chest following behind him in a hand barrow,
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A tall, strong, heavy nut brown man, his tarry pigtail falling over
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the shoulders of his soiled blue coat, his hands ragged and scarred with dirty
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broken nails, and the saber cut across one cheek, a dirty, livid
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white. I remember him looking round the cove and whistling to himself as he
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did so, and then breaking out in that old sea song that he sang
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so often afterwards. Fifty men on a dead man's chest, Yo ho ho,
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and a bottle of rum in the high, old tottering voice that seemed
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to have been tuned and broken at the capstan bars. Then he rapped on
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the door with a bit of a stick like a hand spike that he carried,
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and when my father appeared, called roughly for a glass of rum.
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This when it was brought to him, he drank slowly like a connoisseur,
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lingering on the taste, and still looking about him at the cliffs and up
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at our sign board. This is a handy cove, says he at length,
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and a pleasant cityated grog shop. Much company, mate, my father
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told him, non, very little company. The more was the pity.
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Well, then, says he, this is the berth for me. Here,
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you matey, he cried to the man who trundled the barrow, Bring
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up a longside and help up my chest. I'll stay here a bit,
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he continued. I'm a plain man. Rum and bacon and eggs is what
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I want. And that head up there to watch ships off? What you
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monk called me? You munk called me captain. Oh, I see what
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you're at there, And he threw down three or four gold pieces on the
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threshold. You can tell me when I've worked through that, said he,
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looking as fierce as a commander, and indeed bad as his clothes were,
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and coarsely as he spoke. He had none of the appearance of a man
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who sailed before the mast, but see seemed like a mate or a skipper,
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accustomed to be obeyed or to strike. The man who came with the
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barrow told us the male had set him down the morning before at the Royal
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George, that he had inquired what inns were along the coast, and hearing
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ours well spoken of, I suppose, and described as lonely, had chosen
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it from the others for his place of residence. And that was all we
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could learn of our guest. He was a very silent man by custom.
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All day he hung round the cove or upon the cliffs with a brass telescope.
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All evening he sat in the corner of the parlor next the fire,
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and drank rum and water very strong. Mostly he would not speak when spoken
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to, only look up sudden and fierce, and blow through his nose like
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a fog horn. And we and the people who came about our house soon
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learned to let him be. Every day when he came back from his stroll,
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he would ask if any sea ferry man had gone by along the road.
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At first we thought it was the want of company of his own kind
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that made him ask this question, but at last we began to see he
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was desirous to avoid them. When a seaman put up the admiral benbow,
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and now and then some did making by the coast road for Bristol. He
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would look in at him through the curtained door before he entered the parlor,
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and he was always sure to be as silent as a mouse when any such
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was present. For me, at least, there was no secret about the
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matter, for I was, in a way a sharer in his alarms.
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He had taken me aside one day and promised me a silver forpenny on the
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first of every month, if I would only keep my whever eye open for
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a seafery man with one leg and let him know the moment. He appeared
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often enough. When the first of the month came round and I applied to
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him for my wage, he would own only blow through his nose at me
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and stare me down. But before the week was out he was sure to
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think better of it, bring me my fourpenny piece, and repeat his orders
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to look out for the sea fairy man with one leg. How that personage
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haunted my dreams, I need scarcely tell you. On stormy nights, when
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the wind shook the four corners of the house, and the surf roared along
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the cove and up the cliffs, I would see him in a thousand forms
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and with a thousand diabolical expressions. Now the leg would be cut off at
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the knee, now at the hip. Now he was a monstrous kind of
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a creature who never had but one leg, and that in the middle of
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his body. To see him leap and run and pursue me over the hedge
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and ditch was the worst of nightmares. And altogether I paid pretty dear for
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my monthly fourpenny piece in the shape of these ubmable fantasies. But though I
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was so terrified by the idea of the seafaring man with one leg, I
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was far less afraid of the Captain himself than anybody else who knew him.
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There were nights when he took a great deal more rum and water than his
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head would carry, and then he would sometimes sit and sing his wicked,
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old wild sea songs, minding nobody. But sometimes he would call for glasses
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round and force all the trembling company to listen to his stories or bear a
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chorus to his singing. Often I have heard the house shaking with yo,
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ho ho, and a bottle of rum, all the neighbors joining in for
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dear life, with the fear of death upon them, and each singing louder
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than the other to avoid remark. For in these fits he was the most
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overriding companion ever known. He would slap his hand on the table for silence
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all around. He would fly up in a passion of anger at a question,
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or sometimes because none was put, and so he judged the company was
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not following his story. Nor would he allow anyone to leave the inn till
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he had drunk himself sleepy and reeled off to bed. His stories were what
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frightened people worst of all dreadful stories. They were about hanging and walking the
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plank, and storms at sea, and the dry tortugas, and wild deeds
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and places on the Spanish main. By his own account, he must have
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lived his life among some of the wickedest men that God ever allowed upon the
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sea, and The language in which he told these stories shocked our plain country
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people almost as much as the crimes that he described. My father was always
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saying the inn would be ruined, for people would soon cease coming there to
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be tyrannized over and put down and sent shivering to their beds. But I
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really believe his presence did us good. People were frightened at the time,
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but on looking back, they rather liked it. It was a fine excitement
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in a quiet country life. And there was even a party of the younger
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men who pretended to admire him, calling him a true sea dog and a
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real old salt, and such like names, and saying there was the sort
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of man that made England terrible at sea. In one way, indeed,
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he bad fair to ruin us, for he kept on staying week after week,
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and at last month after month, so that all the money had been
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long exhausted, and still my father never plucked up the heart to insist on
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having more. If ever he mentioned it, the captain blew through his nose
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so loudly that you might say that he roared and stared my poor father out
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of the room. I have seen him wringing his hands after such a rebuff,
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and I am sure the annoyance and the terror he lived in must have
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greatly hated his early and unhappy death. All the time he lived with us,
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the captain made no change whatever in his dress, but to buy some
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stockings from a hawker. One of the cocks of his hat having fallen down,
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he let it hang from that day forth, though it was a great
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annoyance when it blew. I remember the appearance of his coat, which he
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patched himself upstairs in his room, and which before the end was nothing but
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patches. He never wrote or received a letter, and he never spoke with
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any but the neighbors, and with these for the most part, only when
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drunk on rum, the great sea chest none of us had ever seen open.
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He was only once crossed, and that was toward the end, when
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my father was far gone in a decline that took him off. Doctor Livesey
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came late one afternoon to see the patient, took a bit of dinner from
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my mother, and went into the parlor to smoke a pipe until his horse
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should come down from the hamlet, for we had no stabling at the old
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Benbo. I followed him in, and I remember observing the contrast the neat
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bright doctor, with his powder as white as snow, and his bright black
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eyes and pleasant manners made with the Coltish country folk, and above all that
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filthy, heavy bleared scarecrow of a pirate of ours, sitting far gone in
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rum with his arms on the table. Suddenly he, the Captain, that
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is, began to pipe his eternal song, fifteen men on a dead man's
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chest, Yo ho, and a bottle of rum drink, and the devil
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have done further rest yoo, and a bottle love rum. At first I
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had supposed the dead man's chest to be that identical big box of his upstairs
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in the front room, and the thought had been mingled in my nightmares with
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that of the one legged seafaring man. But by this time we had all
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long ceased to pay any particular notice to the song. It was new that
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night to nobody but doctor Livesey, and on him I observe it did not
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produce an agreeable effect, for he looked up for a moment quite angrily,
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before he went on with his talk to Old Taylor the gardener on a new
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cure for roematics. In the meantime, the Captain gradually brightened up at his
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own music, and at last flapped his hand upon the table before him,
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in a way we all knew to mean silence. The voices stopped at once,
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all but Doctor Livesey's. He went on as before, speaking clear and
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kind, and drawing briskly at his pipe. Between every word or two,
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the captain glared at him for a while, flapped his hand again, glared
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still harder, and at last broke out with a villainous oath. Silence there
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between decks. You were addressing me, sar, said the doctor. And
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when the Ruffian had told him with another oath that this was so, replied,
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I have only one thing to say to you, sir, that if
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you keep on drinking rum, the world will soon be quit of a very
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dirty scoundrel. The old fellow's fury was awful. He sprang to his feet,
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drew and opened a sailor's clasp knife, and, balancing it open on
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the palm of his hand, threatened to pin the doctor to the wall.
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The doctor never so much as moved. He spoke to him as before,
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over his shoulder, and in the same tone of voice, rather high so
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that all the room might hear, but perfectly calm and steady. If you
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do not put that knife this instant into your pocket, I promise, upon
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my honor, you shall hang at the next assizes. Then followed a battle
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of looks between them, but the Captain soon knuckled under, put up his
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weapon, and resumed his seat, grumbling like a beaten dog. And now,
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Sir, continued the doctor, since I now know there's such a fellow
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in my district, you may count I'll have an eye upon you day and
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night. I'm not a doctor, only, I'm a magistrate. And if
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I catch a breath of complaint against you, if it's only for a piece
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of incivility like to nights, I'll take effectual means to have you hunted down
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and routed out of this let that suffice. Soon after, doctor Livesey's horse
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came to the door, and he rode away. But the Captain held his
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peace that evening and for many evenings to come. And of chapter one,
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Chapter two, black Dog appears and disappears. It was not very long after
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this that there occurred the first of the mysterious events that rid us at last
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of the Captain, though not as you will see of his affairs. It
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was a bitter cold winter, with long, hard frosts and heavy gales,
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and it was plain from the first that my poor father was little likely to
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see the spring. He sank daily, and my mother and I had all
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the inn upon our hands, and were kept busy enough without paying much regard
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to our unpleasant guest. It was one January morning, very early, a
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pinching frosty morning, the cove all gray with hoar frost, the ripple lapping
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softly on the stones, the sun still low and only touching the hilltops and
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shining far to seaward. The Captain had risen earlier than you usual, and
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sat out down the beach, his cutlass swinging under the broad skirts of the
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old blue coat, his brass telescope under his arm, his hat tilted back
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upon his head. I remember his breath hanging like smoke in his wake as
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he strode off, and the last sound I heard of him as he turned
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the big rock was a loud snort of indignation, as though his mind was
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still running upon doctor livesey Well. Mother was upstairs with father, and I
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was laying the breakfast table against the Captain's return, when the parlor door opened
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and a man stepped in on whom I had never set my eyes before.
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He was a pale, tallowy creature, wanting two fingers of the left hand,
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and though he wore a cutlass, he did not look much like a
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fighter. I had always my eyes open for seafaring men with one leg or
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two, and I remember this one puzzled me. He was not sailory,
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and yet he had a smack of the sea about him too. I asked
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him what was for his service, and he said he would take rum.
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But as I was going out of the room to fetch it, he sat
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down upon a table and motioned to me to draw near. I paused where
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I was with my napkin in my hand. Come here, Sanny said he
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Come nearer. Here. I took a step nearer. Is this tire table
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for my mate Bill, he asked, with a kind of leer. I
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told him I did not know his mate, Bill, and this was for
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a person who stayed at our house, whom we called the Captain. Well,
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said he, My mate Bill would be called the Captain like as not.
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He has a cut on one cheek and a mighty pleasant way with him,
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particularly in drink. As my mate Bill, we'll put it for argument,
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like that your captain has a cut on one cheek, and we'll put
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it if you like that that cheek's the right one. Ah, well,
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I told you. Now is my mate Bill in this here house. I
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told him he was out walking? Which way, sonny, which way is
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he gone? And when I pointed out the rock and told him how the
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captain was likely to return and how soon, and answered a few other questions,
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ah said he this will be as good as drink to my mate Bill.
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The expression of his face as he said these words was not at all
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pleasant, And I had my own reasons for thinking that the stranger was mistaken,
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even supposing he meant what he said. But it was no affair of
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mine, I thought, And besides it was difficult to know what to do.
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The stranger kept hanging about just inside the in door, peering round the
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corner like a cat waiting for a mouse. Once I stepped out myself into
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the road, but he immediately called me back, And as I did not
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obey quick enough for his fancy, a most horrible change came over his tallowy
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face, and he ordered me in with an oath that made me jump As
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soon as I was back again. He returned to his former manner, half
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fawning, half sneering, patted me on the shoulder and told me I was
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a good boy, and he had taken quite a fancy to me. I
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have a son of my own, said, he as like to you as
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two blocks, and he's all the pride of my heart. But the great
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thing for boys is discipline, sonny, discipline. Now, if you had
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sailed along of Bill, you wouldn't have stood there to be spoke to twice,
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not you. That was never Bill's way, nor the way of sitchers
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sailed with him. And here sure enough is my mate Bill with a spyglass
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under his arm, bless his old art. To be sure, you and
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me just go back into the parlor, sonny, and get behind the door,
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and we'll give bit a little surprise. Blesses he, I say again,
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so saying, the stranger backed along with me into the parlor and put
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me behind him into the corner, so that we were both hidden by the
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open door. I was very uneasy and alarmed, as you may fancy,
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but it rather added to my fears to observe that the stranger was certainly frightened
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himself. He cleared the hilt of his cutlass and loosened the blade in the
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sheath. And all the time we were waiting there, he kept swallowing,
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as if he felt what we used to call a lump in the throat.
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At last, instrode the captain slammed the door behind him, without looking to
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the right or left, and marched straight across the room to where his breakfast
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waited him. Bill said the stranger, in a voice that I thought he
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had tried to make bald and big. The captain spun round on his heel
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and fronted us. All the brown had gone out of his face, and
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even his nose was blue, and he had the look of a man who
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sees a ghost, or the evil one, or something worse, if anything
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can be. And upon my word, I felt sorry to see him all
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in a moment turn so old and sick. Come Bill, you know me,
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You know an old shipmate, Bill surely, said the stranger. The
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captain made a sort of gasp, black Dog said he, and who else
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returned the other getting more at his ease. Black Dog, as ever,
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was comfort to seize old shipmate Billy at the admiral benbow inn. Oh Bill,
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Bill, we have seen a sight of times us too since I lost
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them two talons holding up his mutilated hand. Now look here, said the
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captain. You've rum me down here. I am well, then speak up.
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What is it that's you? Bill returned black Dog. You're in the
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right of it, Billy. I'll have a glass of rum from this dear
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child here, as I've took such a lik into, and we'll sit down
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if you please, and talk square like old shipmates. When I returned with
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the rum, they were already seated on either side of the captain's breakfast table,
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black Dog next to the door and sitting sideways so as to have one
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eye on his shipmate and one as I thought on his retreat. He bade
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me go and leave the door wide open. None of your key holes for
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me, Sanny, he said, And I left them together and retired into
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the bar. A long time. Though I certainly did my best to listen,
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I could hear nothing but low gabbling, And at last the voices began
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to grow higher, and I could pick up a word or two, mostly
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oaths from the captain. No no, no, no, and an end
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of it, he cried, once and again. If it comes to swing
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in swing, oh, say I. Then all of a sudden there was
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a tremendous explosion of oaths and other noises. The chair and table went over
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in a lump. A clash of steel followed, and then a cry of
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pain. And the next instant I saw black Dog in full flight and the
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captain hotly pursuing, both with drawn cutlasses, and the former streaming blood from
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the left shoulder. Just at the door, the captain aimed at the fugitive
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one last tremendous cut, which would certainly have split him to the chin had
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it not been intercepted by our big sign board of Admiral Benbow. You may
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see the notch on the lower side of the frame to this day. That
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blow was the last of the battle. Once out upon the road, black
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Dog, in spite of his wound, showed a wonderful clean pair of heels
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and disappeared over the edge of the hill in half a minute. The Captain,
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for his part, stood staring at the sign board like a bewildered man.
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Then he passed his hand over his eyes several times, and at last
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turned back into the house. Jim says, he rum and as he spoke
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he reeled a little and caught himself with one hand against the wall. Are
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you hurt, cried I, rum, he repeated, I must get away
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from here, Rum Rum. I ran to fetch it, but I was
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quite unsteadied by all that had fallen out, and I broke one glass and
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fowled the tap. And while I was still getting in my own way,
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I heard a loud fall in the parlor, and running in beheld the Captain
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lying full length upon the floor. At the same instant, my mother,
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alarmed by the cries and fighting, came running downstairs to help me. Between
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us we raised his head. He was breathing very loud and hard, but
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his eyes were closed and his face was a horrible color. Dear, deary
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me, cried my mother, What a disgrace upon the house, and your
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poor father's sick. In the meantime, we had no idea what to do
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to help the captain, nor any other thought but that he had got his
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death hurt in the scuffle with the stranger. I got the rum, to
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be sure, and try to put it down his throat, but his teeth
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were tightly shut and his jaws as strong as iron. It was a happy
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relief to us when the door opened, and Doctor Livesey came in on his
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visit to my father. Oh doctor, we cried, what shall we do?
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Where is he wounded? Wounded a fiddlestick's end, said the doctor.
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No more wounded than your eye. The man has had a stroke, as
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I warned him. Now, missus Hawkins, just you run up stairs to
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your husband and tell him, if possible, nothing about it. For my
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part, I must do my best to save this fellow's trebly worthless life.
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And Jim, you get me a basin. When I got back with the
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basin, the doctor had already ripped up the captain's sleeve and exposed his great
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sinewy arm. It was tattooed in several places. Here's luck, a fair
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wind, and Billy Bones his fancy were very neatly and clearly executed. On
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the forearm, and up near the shoulder there was a sketch of the gallows
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and a man hanging from it. Done as I thought, with great spirit
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prophetic, said the doctor, touching this picture with his finger. And now,
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master Billy Bones, if that be your name, we'll have a look
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at the color of your blood. Jim, he said, are you afraid
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of blood? No? Sir, said I well, then said he you
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hold the basin, And with that he took his lancet and opened a vein.
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A great deal of blood was taken before the captain opened his eyes and
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looked mistily about him. First he recognized the doctor with an unmistakable frown.
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Then his glance fell upon me, and he looked relieved. But suddenly his
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color changed, and he tried to raise himself, crying, where's black dog.
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There's no black dog here, said the doctor, except what you have
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on your own back. You have been drinking rum. You have had a
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stroke precisely as I told you, and I have just very much against my
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own will, dragged you head foremost out of the grave. Now, mister
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Bones, that's not my name, he interrupted, much I care, returned
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the doctor. It's the name of a buccaneer of my acquaintance, and I'll
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call you by it for the sake of shortness. But what I have to
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say to you is this. One glass of rum won't kill you, But
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if you take one, you'll take another and another, and I'll stake my
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wig. If you don't break off short you'll die. Do you understand that?
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Die? And go to your own place, like the man in the
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Bible. Come now make an effort. I'll help you to your bed,
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For once, between us, with much trouble, we managed to hoist him
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upstairs and laid him on his bed, where his head fell back on the
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pillow, as if he was almost fainting. Now mind you, said the
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doctor. I clear my conscience. The name of Rum for you is death.
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And with that he went off to see my father, taking me with
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him by the arm. This is nothing, he said, as soon as
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he had closed the door. I have drawn blood enough to keep him quiet
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a while. He should lie for a week where he is. That is
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the best thing for him and you. But another stroke would settle him.
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End of Chapter two.