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09 - Treasure Island - Robert Louis Stevenson · Classic Adventure Books Collection

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Chapter seventeen narrative continued by the Doctor the Jolly Boat's last trip. This fifth
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trip was quite different from any of the others. In the first place,
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the little galley part of a boat that we were in was gravely overloaded five
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grown men, and three of them trelawny read ruth, and the captain,
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over six feet high, was already more than she was meant to carry.
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Add to that the powder, pork and the bread bags. The gunwales were
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lipping astern. Several times we shipped a little water, and my breeches and
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the tails of my coat were all soaking wet. Before we had got a
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hundred yards. The captain made us trim the boat, and we got her
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to lie a little more evenly. All the same we were afraid to breathe.
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In the second place, the ebb was now making a strong rippling current,
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running westward through the basin and then southered and seaward down the straits by
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which we had entered in the even the ripples were a danger to our overloaded
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craft. But the worst of it was that we were swept out of our
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true course and away from our proper landing place behind the point. If we
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let the current have its way. We should come ashore beside the gigs,
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where the pirates might appear at any moment. I cannot keep her head for
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the stockade, sir, said I to the captain. I was steering while
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he and Redruth, two fresh men, were at the oars. The tide
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keeps washing her down. Could you pull a little stronger, not without swamping
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the boat, said he. You must bear up, sir, if you
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please bear up until you see your gaining. I tried, and found by
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experiment that the tide kept sweeping us westward till I had laid her head due
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east, or just about right angles to the way we ought to go.
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We'll never get ashore at this rate, said I. If it's the coarse
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we can lie, Sir, we must even lie, it, returned the
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captain. We must keep upstream, you see, sir, He went on.
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If once we dropped to leeward of the landing place, it's hard to
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say where we should get ashore, besides the chance of being boarded by the
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gigs. Whereas the way we go, the current must slacken, and then
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we can dodge back along the shore the current's lesser. Ready, sir,
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said the man Gray, who was sitting in the fore sheets. You can
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ease her off a bit. Thank you, my man, said I,
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as if nothing had happened, for we had all quietly made up our minds
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to treat him like one of ourselves. Suddenly the captain spoke up again,
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and I thought his voice was a little changed. The gun said he.
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I have thought of that, said I, for I made sure he was
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thinking of a bombardment of the fort. They could never get the gun ashore,
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and if they did, they could never haul it through the woods.
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Look, astern doctor, replied the captain. We had entirely forgotten the Long
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nine. And there, to our horror, were the five rogues busy about
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her getting off her jacket, as they called the stout tophall in cover under
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which she sailed. Not only that, but it flashed into my mind at
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the same moment that the round shot and the powder for the gun had been
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left behind, and the stroke of an axe would put it all into the
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possession of the evil ones aboard Israel was Flint's gunner, said Gray hoarsely,
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At any risk, we put the boat's head directly for the landing place.
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By this time we had got so far out of the run of the current
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that we kept steerage way even at our necessarily gentle rate of rowing, and
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I could keep her steady for the goal. But the worst of it was
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that, with the corse I now held, we turned our broadside instead of
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our stern to the Hispaniola and offered a target like a barn door. I
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could hear as well as see that brandy faced rascal israel hands plumping down a
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round shot on the deck. Who's the best shot, asked the captain.
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Mister Trelawney out in a way, said I, mister Trelawney, will you
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please pick me off one of those men, sir, hands, if are
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possible, said the captain. Trelawney was as cold as steel. He looked
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to the priming of his gun. Now, cried the captain. Easy with
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that gun, sir, or you'll swamp the boat. All hands stand by
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to trim her. When he aims. The squire raised his gun. The
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rowing ceased, and we leaned over to the other side to keep the balance.
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And all was so nicely contrived that we did not ship a drop.
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They had the gun by this time slewed around upon the swivel and Hans,
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who was at the muzzle with the rammer, was in consequence the most exposed.
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However, we had no luck, for just as Trelawney fired down,
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he stooped the ball whistling over him, and it was one of the other
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four who fell. The cry he gave was echoed not only by his companions
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on board, but by a great number of voices from the shore. And
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looking out in that direction, I saw the other pirates trooping out from among
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the trees and tumbling into their places in the boats. Here come the gigs,
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Sir said, I give way, then said the Captain. We mustn't
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mind if we swamp her. Now. If we can't get ashore, all's
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up. Only one of the gigs is being manned, Sir, I added.
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The crew of the other is most likely going around by shore to cut
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us off. They'll have a hot run, Sir, returned the captain Jack
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ashore. You know, if it's not near my mind, it's the round
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shot carpet bowls. My lady's maid couldn't miss. Tell us, squire when
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you see the match, and we'll hold water. In the meantime, we
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had been making headway at a good pace for a boat so overloaded, and
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we had shipped but little water in the process. We were now close in
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thirty or forty strokes, and we should beach her, for the Ebb had
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already disclosed a narrow belt of sand below the clustering trees. The gig was
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no longer to be feared. The little point had already concealed it from our
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eyes. The ebb tide, which had so cruelly delayed us, was now
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making reparation and delaying our assailants. The one source of danger was the gun.
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If I durst, said the Captain, I'd stop and pick off another
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man. It was plain that they meant nothing should delay their shot. They
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had never so much as looked at their fallen comrade, though he was not
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dead, and I could see him trying to crawl away. Ready, cried
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the squire. Hold cried the captain quick as an echo, and he and
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Redruth backed with a great heave that sent her a stern bodily under water.
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The report fell into the same instant of time. This was the first that
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Jim heard the sound of the Squire's shot, not having reached him. When
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the ball passed, not one of us precisely knew, but I fancy it
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must have been over our heads, and that the wind of it may have
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contributed to our disaster. At any rate, the boats sunk by the stern
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quite gently in three feet of water, leaving the captain and myself facing each
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other on our feet. The other three took complete headers and came up again
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drenched and bubbling. So far there was no great harm, no lives were
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lost, and we wade ashore in safety. But there were all our stores
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at the bottom, and to make things worse, only two guns out of
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five remained in a state for service. Mine I had snatched from my knees
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and held over my head by a sort of instinct. As for the captain,
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he had carried his over his shoulder by a bandolier, and like a
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wise man, lock uppermost. The other three had gone down with the boat.
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To add to our concern, we heard voices already drawing nearer to us
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in the wood along the shore, and we had only the danger of being
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cut off from the stockade in our half crippled state. But the fear before
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us whether if Hunter and Joyce were attacked by half a dozen, they would
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have the sense and conduct to stand firm. Hunter was steady that we knew.
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Joyce was a doubtful case. A pleasant polite man for a valet and
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to brush one's clothes, but not entirely fitted for a man of war.
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All this in our minds, we waded ashore as fast as we could,
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leaving behind us the poor jolly boat and a good half of all our powder
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and provisions. End of chapter seventeen. Chapter eighteen narrative continued by the doctor
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end of the first day's fighting. We made our best speed across the strip
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of wood that now divided us from the stockade, and at every step we
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took the voices of the buccaneers rang nearer. Soon we could hear their footfalls
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as they ran, and the cracking of the branches as they breasted across a
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bit of thicket. I began to see we should have a brush for it
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in earnest and looked to my priming captain, said I, Trelawny is the
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dead shot. Give him your gun. His own is useless. They exchanged
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guns, and Trelawney, silent and cool as he had been since the beginning
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of the bustle, hung a moment on his heel to see that all was
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fit for service. At the same time, observing Gray to be unarmed,
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I handed him my cutlass. It did all our hearts good to see him
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spit in his hand, knit his brows, and make the blades sing through
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the air. It was plain from every line of his body that our new
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hand was worth his salt. Forty paces farther, we came to the edge
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of the wood and saw the stockade in front of us. We struck the
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enclosure about the middle of the south side, and almost at the same time,
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seven mutineers Job Anderson, the Bowswain at their head, appeared in full
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cry at the southwestern corner. They paused as if taken aback, and before
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they recovered not only the Squire and I, but Hunter and Joyce from the
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block house had time to fire. The four shots came in rather a scattering
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volley, but they did the business. One of the enemy actually fell,
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and the rest, without hesitation, turned and plunged into the trees. After
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reloading, we walked down the outside of the palisade to see the fallen enemy.
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He was stone dead, shot through the heart. We began to rejoice
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over our good success, when just at that moment a pistol cracked in the
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bush, and a ball whistled close past my ear, and poor Tom Redruth
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stumbled and fell his length on the ground. Both the Squire and I returned
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the shot, but as we had nothing to aim at, it was probable
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we only wasted powder. Then we reloaded and turned our attention to poor Tom.
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The Captain and Gray were already examining him, and I saw with half
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an eye that all was over. I believe the readiness of our returned volley
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had scattered the mutineers once more, for we were suffered without further molestation to
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get the poor old gamekeeper hoisted over the stockade and carried, groaning and bleeding
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into the log house. Poor old fellow, he had not uttered one word
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of surprise, complaint, to fear, or even acquiescence from the very beginning
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of our troubles till now, when we had laid him down on the log
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house to die. He had lain like a trojan behind his mattress in the
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gallery. He had followed every order silently, doggedly and well. He was
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the oldest of our party by a score of years, and now sullen,
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old, serviceable servant it was he that was to die. The Squire dropped
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down beside him on his knees and kissed his hand, crying like a child.
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Be I going doctor, he asked tom My man said, I you're
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going home. I wish I had had a liquet em with the gun first,
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he replied. Tom said, the Squire say you forgive me, won't
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you? Would that be respectful like from me to you, squire? Was
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the answer, howsoever it be amen. After a little while of silence,
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he said he thought somebody might read a prayer. It's the custom, sir,
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he added apologetically, and not long after, without another word, he
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passed away. In the meantime, the captain, whom I had observed to
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be wonderfully swollen about the chest and pockets, had turned out a great many
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various stores, the British colors, a bible, a coil of Stoutish rope,
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pen ink, the log book, and pounds of tobacco. He had
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found a longish fir tree lying felled and cleared in the enclosure, and with
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the help of Hunter, he had set it up at the corner of the
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log house, where the trunks crossed and made an angle. Then climbing up
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on the roof he had with his own hand bent and run up the colors.
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This seemed mightily to relieve him. He entered the log house and set
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about counting up the stores as if nothing else existed. But he had an
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eye on Tom's passage for all that, And as soon as all was over,
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came forward with another flag and reverently spread it on the body. Don't
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you take on, sir, he said, shaking the squire's hand. All's
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well with him, No fear for a hand that's been shot down in his
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duty to captain named owner. It mayn't be good, divinity, but it's
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a fact. Then he pulled me aside. Doctor Livesey, He said,
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in how many weeks do you and Squire expect the consort? I told him
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it was a question not of weeks, but of months, that if we
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were not back by the end of August, Blandly was to send to find
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us. But neither sooner nor later. You can calculate for yourself, I
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said, why, yes, returned the captain, scratching his head and making
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a large allowance. Sir, for all the gifts of providence, I should
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say we were pretty close hauled. How do you mean, I asked.
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It's a pity, sir, we lost that second load. That's what I
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mean, replied the captain. As for powder and shot, we'll do,
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but the rations are short, very short. So shocked doctor Livesey that we're
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perhaps as well without that extra mouth, and he pointed to the dead body
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under the flag. Just then, with a roar and a whistle, a
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round shot passed high above the roof of the log house and plumped far beyond
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us in the wood. Oho, said the captain, Blaze away, you've
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litten enough powder already, my lads. At the second trial, the aim
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was better, and the ball descended inside the stockade, scattering a cloud of
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sand, but doing no further damage. Captain said the squire. The house
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is quite invisible from the ship. It must be the flag they're aiming at.
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Would it not be whiter to take it in strike? My colors cried
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the captain, No, sir, not I And as soon as he had
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said the word, I think we all agreed with him, for it was
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not only a piece of stout seemingly good feeling, it was a good policy
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besides, and showed our enemies that we despised their cannonade. All through the
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evening, they kept thundering away. Ball after ball flew over, or fell
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short, or kicked up the sand in the enclosure, but they had to
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fire so high that the shot fell dead and buried itself in the soft sand.
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We had no ricochet to fear, and though one popped in through the
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roof of the log house and out again through the floor, we soon got
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used to that sort of horseplay, and minding it no more than cricket.
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There is one good thing about all this, observed the Captain. The wood
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in front of us is likely clear. The EBB has made a good while
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our stores should be uncovered. Volunteers to go and bring in pork. Gray
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and Hunter were the first to come forward. Well armed, they stole out
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of the stockade, but it proved a useless mission. The mutineers were bolder
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than we fancied, or they put more trust in Israel's gunnery, for four
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or five of them were busy carrying off our stores and wading out with them
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to one of the gigs that lay close by, pulling an oar or so
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to hold her steady against the current. Silver was in the stern sheets in
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command, and every man of them was now provided with a musket from some
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secret magazine of their own. The captain sat down to his log and here
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is the beginning of the entry. Alexander Smollett, Master, David Livesey,
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ship's doctor, Abraham Gray, carpenter's mate, John Trelawney, Owner, John
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Hunter, and Richard Joyce, owner's servants, land's men, being all that
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is left faithful of the ship's company, with stores for ten days at short
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rations, came ashore this day and flew British colors on the log house in
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Treasure Island. Thomas Redruth, owner's servant, landsman shot by the mutineers.
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James Hawkins, cabin boy. And at the same time I was wondering over
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poor Jim hawkins fate a hail on the land side. Somebody hailing us,
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said Hunter, who was on guard, Doctor Squire, Captain, helloo,
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Hunter, is that you came the And I ran to the door in time
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to see Jim Hawkins, safe and sound, come climbing over the stockade.
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End of chapter eighteen