Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson
Part 18
2216 words | Chapter 18
. He was whistling “Come, Lasses and Lads.”
Silver had terrible hard work getting up the knoll. What with the
steepness of the incline, the thick tree stumps, and the soft sand, he
and his crutch were as helpless as a ship in stays. But he stuck to it
like a man in silence, and at last arrived before the captain, whom
he saluted in the handsomest style. He was tricked out in his best;
an immense blue coat, thick with brass buttons, hung as low as to his
knees, and a fine laced hat was set on the back of his head.
“Here you are, my man,” said the captain, raising his head. “You had
better sit down.”
“You ain’t a-going to let me inside, Cap’n?” complained Long John. “It’s
a main cold morning, to be sure, sir, to sit outside upon the sand.”
“Why, Silver,” said the captain, “if you had pleased to be an honest
man, you might have been sitting in your galley. It’s your own doing.
You’re either my ship’s cook--and then you were treated handsome--or
Cap’n Silver, a common mutineer and pirate, and then you can go hang!”
“Well, well, Cap’n,” returned the sea-cook, sitting down as he was
bidden on the sand, “you’ll have to give me a hand up again, that’s all.
A sweet pretty place you have of it here. Ah, there’s Jim! The top of
the morning to you, Jim. Doctor, here’s my service. Why, there you all
are together like a happy family, in a manner of speaking.”
“If you have anything to say, my man, better say it,” said the captain.
“Right you were, Cap’n Smollett,” replied Silver. “Dooty is dooty, to be
sure. Well now, you look here, that was a good lay of yours last
night. I don’t deny it was a good lay. Some of you pretty handy with a
handspike-end. And I’ll not deny neither but what some of my people was
shook--maybe all was shook; maybe I was shook myself; maybe that’s
why I’m here for terms. But you mark me, Cap’n, it won’t do twice, by
thunder! We’ll have to do sentry-go and ease off a point or so on the
rum. Maybe you think we were all a sheet in the wind’s eye. But I’ll
tell you I was sober; I was on’y dog tired; and if I’d awoke a second
sooner, I’d ’a caught you at the act, I would. He wasn’t dead when I got
round to him, not he.”
“Well?” says Captain Smollett as cool as can be.
All that Silver said was a riddle to him, but you would never have
guessed it from his tone. As for me, I began to have an inkling. Ben
Gunn’s last words came back to my mind. I began to suppose that he had
paid the buccaneers a visit while they all lay drunk together round
their fire, and I reckoned up with glee that we had only fourteen
enemies to deal with.
“Well, here it is,” said Silver. “We want that treasure, and we’ll have
it--that’s our point! You would just as soon save your lives, I reckon;
and that’s yours. You have a chart, haven’t you?”
“That’s as may be,” replied the captain.
“Oh, well, you have, I know that,” returned Long John. “You needn’t be
so husky with a man; there ain’t a particle of service in that, and you
may lay to it. What I mean is, we want your chart. Now, I never meant
you no harm, myself.”
“That won’t do with me, my man,” interrupted the captain. “We know
exactly what you meant to do, and we don’t care, for now, you see, you
can’t do it.”
And the captain looked at him calmly and proceeded to fill a pipe.
“If Abe Gray--” Silver broke out.
“Avast there!” cried Mr. Smollett. “Gray told me nothing, and I asked
him nothing; and what’s more, I would see you and him and this whole
island blown clean out of the water into blazes first. So there’s my
mind for you, my man, on that.”
This little whiff of temper seemed to cool Silver down. He had been
growing nettled before, but now he pulled himself together.
“Like enough,” said he. “I would set no limits to what gentlemen might
consider shipshape, or might not, as the case were. And seein’ as how
you are about to take a pipe, Cap’n, I’ll make so free as do likewise.”
And he filled a pipe and lighted it; and the two men sat silently
smoking for quite a while, now looking each other in the face, now
stopping their tobacco, now leaning forward to spit. It was as good as
the play to see them.
“Now,” resumed Silver, “here it is. You give us the chart to get the
treasure by, and drop shooting poor seamen and stoving of their heads in
while asleep. You do that, and we’ll offer you a choice. Either you come
aboard along of us, once the treasure shipped, and then I’ll give you my
affy-davy, upon my word of honour, to clap you somewhere safe ashore. Or
if that ain’t to your fancy, some of my hands being rough and having
old scores on account of hazing, then you can stay here, you can. We’ll
divide stores with you, man for man; and I’ll give my affy-davy, as
before to speak the first ship I sight, and send ’em here to pick you
up. Now, you’ll own that’s talking. Handsomer you couldn’t look to get,
now you. And I hope”--raising his voice--“that all hands in this here
block house will overhaul my words, for what is spoke to one is spoke to
all.”
Captain Smollett rose from his seat and knocked out the ashes of his
pipe in the palm of his left hand.
“Is that all?” he asked.
“Every last word, by thunder!” answered John. “Refuse that, and you’ve
seen the last of me but musket-balls.”
“Very good,” said the captain. “Now you’ll hear me. If you’ll come up
one by one, unarmed, I’ll engage to clap you all in irons and take you
home to a fair trial in England. If you won’t, my name is Alexander
Smollett, I’ve flown my sovereign’s colours, and I’ll see you all
to Davy Jones. You can’t find the treasure. You can’t sail the
ship--there’s not a man among you fit to sail the ship. You can’t fight
us--Gray, there, got away from five of you. Your ship’s in irons, Master
Silver; you’re on a lee shore, and so you’ll find. I stand here and tell
you so; and they’re the last good words you’ll get from me, for in the
name of heaven, I’ll put a bullet in your back when next I meet you.
Tramp, my lad. Bundle out of this, please, hand over hand, and double
quick.”
Silver’s face was a picture; his eyes started in his head with wrath. He
shook the fire out of his pipe.
“Give me a hand up!” he cried.
“Not I,” returned the captain.
“Who’ll give me a hand up?” he roared.
Not a man among us moved. Growling the foulest imprecations, he crawled
along the sand till he got hold of the porch and could hoist himself
again upon his crutch. Then he spat into the spring.
“There!” he cried. “That’s what I think of ye. Before an hour’s out,
I’ll stove in your old block house like a rum puncheon. Laugh, by
thunder, laugh! Before an hour’s out, ye’ll laugh upon the other side.
Them that die’ll be the lucky ones.”
And with a dreadful oath he stumbled off, ploughed down the sand, was
helped across the stockade, after four or five failures, by the man with
the flag of truce, and disappeared in an instant afterwards among the
trees.
XXI
The Attack
As soon as Silver disappeared, the captain, who had been closely
watching him, turned towards the interior of the house and found not a
man of us at his post but Gray. It was the first time we had ever seen
him angry.
“Quarters!” he roared. And then, as we all slunk back to our places,
“Gray,” he said, “I’ll put your name in the log; you’ve stood by your
duty like a seaman. Mr. Trelawney, I’m surprised at you, sir. Doctor,
I thought you had worn the king’s coat! If that was how you served at
Fontenoy, sir, you’d have been better in your berth.”
The doctor’s watch were all back at their loopholes, the rest were busy
loading the spare muskets, and everyone with a red face, you may be
certain, and a flea in his ear, as the saying is.
The captain looked on for a while in silence. Then he spoke.
“My lads,” said he, “I’ve given Silver a broadside. I pitched it in
red-hot on purpose; and before the hour’s out, as he said, we shall be
boarded. We’re outnumbered, I needn’t tell you that, but we fight in
shelter; and a minute ago I should have said we fought with discipline.
I’ve no manner of doubt that we can drub them, if you choose.”
Then he went the rounds and saw, as he said, that all was clear.
On the two short sides of the house, east and west, there were only two
loopholes; on the south side where the porch was, two again; and on the
north side, five. There was a round score of muskets for the seven
of us; the firewood had been built into four piles--tables, you might
say--one about the middle of each side, and on each of these tables some
ammunition and four loaded muskets were laid ready to the hand of the
defenders. In the middle, the cutlasses lay ranged.
“Toss out the fire,” said the captain; “the chill is past, and we
mustn’t have smoke in our eyes.”
The iron fire-basket was carried bodily out by Mr. Trelawney, and the
embers smothered among sand.
“Hawkins hasn’t had his breakfast. Hawkins, help yourself, and back to
your post to eat it,” continued Captain Smollett. “Lively, now, my lad;
you’ll want it before you’ve done. Hunter, serve out a round of brandy
to all hands.”
And while this was going on, the captain completed, in his own mind, the
plan of the defence.
“Doctor, you will take the door,” he resumed. “See, and don’t expose
yourself; keep within, and fire through the porch. Hunter, take the east
side, there. Joyce, you stand by the west, my man. Mr. Trelawney, you
are the best shot--you and Gray will take this long north side, with the
five loopholes; it’s there the danger is. If they can get up to it and
fire in upon us through our own ports, things would begin to look dirty.
Hawkins, neither you nor I are much account at the shooting; we’ll stand
by to load and bear a hand.”
As the captain had said, the chill was past. As soon as the sun had
climbed above our girdle of trees, it fell with all its force upon the
clearing and drank up the vapours at a draught. Soon the sand was baking
and the resin melting in the logs of the block house. Jackets and coats
were flung aside, shirts thrown open at the neck and rolled up to the
shoulders; and we stood there, each at his post, in a fever of heat and
anxiety.
An hour passed away.
“Hang them!” said the captain. “This is as dull as the doldrums. Gray,
whistle for a wind.”
And just at that moment came the first news of the attack.
“If you please, sir,” said Joyce, “if I see anyone, am I to fire?”
“I told you so!” cried the captain.
“Thank you, sir,” returned Joyce with the same quiet civility.
Nothing followed for a time, but the remark had set us all on the alert,
straining ears and eyes--the musketeers with their pieces balanced in
their hands, the captain out in the middle of the block house with his
mouth very tight and a frown on his face.
So some seconds passed, till suddenly Joyce whipped up his musket
and fired. The report had scarcely died away ere it was repeated and
repeated from without in a scattering volley, shot behind shot, like
a string of geese, from every side of the enclosure. Several bullets
struck the log-house, but not one entered; and as the smoke cleared away
and vanished, the stockade and the woods around it looked as quiet and
empty as before. Not a bough waved, not the gleam of a musket-barrel
betrayed the presence of our foes.
“Did you hit your man?” asked the captain.
“No, sir,” replied Joyce. “I believe not, sir.”
“Next best thing to tell the truth,” muttered Captain Smollett. “Load
his gun, Hawkins. How many should say there were on your side, doctor?”
“I know precisely,” said Dr. Livesey. “Three shots were fired on this
side. I saw the three flashes--two close together--one farther to the
west.”
“Three!” repeated the captain. “And how many on yours, Mr. Trelawney?”
But this was not so easily answered. There had come many from the
north--seven by the
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