Treasure Island
What I Heard in the Apple Barrel
NO, not I,” said Silver. “Flint was cap’n; I was quartermaster, along of my leg. The same I my leg, old Pew his deadlights. It was a master surgeon, him that me—out of college and all—Latin by the bucket, and what not; but he was like a dog, and sun-dried like the rest, at Corso Castle. That was Roberts’ men, that was, and of names to their ships—Royal Fortune and so on. Now, what a ship was christened, so let her stay, I says. So it was with the Cassandra, as us all safe home from Malabar, after England took the of the Indies; so it was with the old Walrus, Flint’s old ship, as I’ve with the red blood and fit to with gold.”
“Ah!” another voice, that of the hand on board, and full of admiration. “He was the flower of the flock, was Flint!”
“Davis was a man too, by all accounts,” said Silver. “I along of him; with England, then with Flint, that’s my story; and now here on my own account, in a manner of speaking. I by nine hundred safe, from England, and two thousand after Flint. That ain’t for a man the mast—all safe in bank. ’Tain’t earning now, it’s saving it, you may to that. Where’s all England’s men now? I dunno. Where’s Flint’s? Why, most on ’em here, and to the duff—been that, some on ’em. Old Pew, as had his sight, and might have shame, twelve hundred in a year, like a lord in Parliament. Where is he now? Well, he’s now and under hatches; but for two year that, my timbers, the man was starving! He begged, and he stole, and he cut throats, and at that, by the powers!”
“Well, it ain’t much use, after all,” said the seaman.
“’Tain’t much use for fools, you may to it—that, nothing,” Silver. “But now, you look here: you’re young, you are, but you’re as as paint. I see that when I set my on you, and I’ll talk to you like a man.”
You may how I when I this old another in the very same of as he had used to myself. I think, if I had been able, that I would have killed him through the barrel. Meantime, he ran on, little he was overheard.
“Here it is about of fortune. They rough, and they swinging, but they eat and drink like fighting-cocks, and when a is done, why, it’s hundreds of of hundreds of in their pockets. Now, the most goes for and a good fling, and to sea again in their shirts. But that’s not the I lay. I puts it all away, some here, some there, and none too much anywheres, by of suspicion. I’m fifty, mark you; once from this cruise, I set up in earnest. Time too, says you. Ah, but I’ve easy in the meantime, myself o’ nothing desires, and slep’ soft and ate all my days but when at sea. And how did I begin? Before the mast, like you!”
“Well,” said the other, “but all the other money’s gone now, ain’t it? You daren’t in Bristol after this.”
“Why, where might you it was?” asked Silver derisively.
“At Bristol, in banks and places,” answered his companion.
“It were,” said the cook; “it were when we anchor. But my old has it all by now. And the Spy-glass is sold, and and rigging; and the old girl’s off to meet me. I would tell you where, for I trust you, but it’d make among the mates.”
“And can you trust your missis?” asked the other.
“Gentlemen of fortune,” returned the cook, “usually little among themselves, and right they are, you may to it. But I have a way with me, I have. When a a on his cable—one as me, I mean—it won’t be in the same world with old John. There was some that was of Pew, and some that was of Flint; but Flint his own self was of me. Feared he was, and proud. They was the afloat, was Flint’s; the himself would have been to go to sea with them. Well now, I tell you, I’m not a man, and you how easy I keep company, but when I was quartermaster, wasn’t the word for Flint’s old buccaneers. Ah, you may be sure of in old John’s ship.”
“Well, I tell you now,” the lad, “I didn’t a like the job till I had this talk with you, John; but there’s my hand on it now.”
“And a you were, and too,” answered Silver, hands so that all the shook, “and a for a of I my on.”
By this time I had to the meaning of their terms. By a “gentleman of fortune” they meant neither more less than a common pirate, and the little that I had was the last act in the of one of the hands—perhaps of the last one left aboard. But on this point I was soon to be relieved, for Silver a little whistle, a third man up and sat by the party.
“Dick’s square,” said Silver.
“Oh, I know’d Dick was square,” returned the voice of the coxswain, Israel Hands. “He’s no fool, is Dick.” And he his and spat. “But look here,” he on, “here’s what I want to know, Barbecue: how long are we a-going to off and on like a bumboat? I’ve had a’most o’ Cap’n Smollett; he’s me long enough, by thunder! I want to go into that cabin, I do. I want their and wines, and that.”
“Israel,” said Silver, “your ain’t much account, was. But you’re able to hear, I reckon; leastways, your ears is big enough. Now, here’s what I say: you’ll forward, and you’ll live hard, and you’ll speak soft, and you’ll keep till I give the word; and you may to that, my son.”
“Well, I don’t say no, do I?” the coxswain. “What I say is, when? That’s what I say.”
“When! By the powers!” Silver. “Well now, if you want to know, I’ll tell you when. The last moment I can manage, and that’s when. Here’s a first-rate seaman, Cap’n Smollett, the ship for us. Here’s this and doctor with a map and such—I don’t know where it is, do I? No more do you, says you. Well then, I this and doctor shall the stuff, and help us to it aboard, by the powers. Then we’ll see. If I was sure of you all, sons of Dutchmen, I’d have Cap’n Smollett us half-way again I struck.”
“Why, we’re all here, I should think,” said the Dick.
“We’re all hands, you mean,” Silver. “We can a course, but who’s to set one? That’s what all you on, and last. If I had my way, I’d have Cap’n Smollett work us into the at least; then we’d have no and a of water a day. But I know the you are. I’ll with ’em at the island, as soon’s the blunt’s on board, and a it is. But you’re happy till you’re drunk. Split my sides, I’ve a to sail with the of you!”
“Easy all, Long John,” Israel. “Who’s a-crossin’ of you?”
“Why, how many tall ships, think ye, now, have I aboard? And how many in the sun at Execution Dock?” Silver. “And all for this same and and hurry. You me? I a thing or two at sea, I have. If you would on’y your course, and a p’int to windward, you would in carriages, you would. But not you! I know you. You’ll have your of tomorrow, and go hang.”
“Everybody you was a of a chapling, John; but there’s others as hand and as well as you,” said Israel. “They liked a o’ fun, they did. They wasn’t so high and dry, nohow, but took their fling, like every one.”
“So?” says Silver. “Well, and where are they now? Pew was that sort, and he died a beggar-man. Flint was, and he died of at Savannah. Ah, they was a sweet crew, they was! On’y, where are they?”
“But,” asked Dick, “when we do ’em athwart, what are we to do with ’em, anyhow?”
“There’s the man for me!” the cook admiringly. “That’s what I call business. Well, what would you think? Put ’em like maroons? That would have been England’s way. Or cut ’em like that much pork? That would have been Flint’s, or Billy Bones’s.”
“Billy was the man for that,” said Israel. “‘Dead men don’t bite,’ says he. Well, he’s now hisself; he the long and on it now; and if a hand come to port, it was Billy.”
“Right you are,” said Silver; “rough and ready. But mark you here, I’m an easy man—I’m the gentleman, says you; but this time it’s serious. Dooty is dooty, mates. I give my vote—death. When I’m in Parlyment and in my coach, I don’t want none of these sea-lawyers in the a-coming home, for, like the at prayers. Wait is what I say; but when the time comes, why, let her rip!”
“John,” the coxswain, “you’re a man!”
“You’ll say so, Israel when you see,” said Silver. “Only one thing I claim—I Trelawney. I’ll his calf’s off his with these hands, Dick!” he added, off. “You just jump up, like a sweet lad, and me an apple, to wet my pipe like.”
You may the terror I was in! I should have out and for it if I had the strength, but my and me. I Dick to rise, and then someone stopped him, and the voice of Hands exclaimed, “Oh, that! Don’t you of that bilge, John. Let’s have a go of the rum.”
“Dick,” said Silver, “I trust you. I’ve a on the keg, mind. There’s the key; you a and it up.”
Terrified as I was, I not help to myself that this must have been how Mr. Arrow got the that him.
Dick was gone but a little while, and his Israel spoke on in the cook’s ear. It was but a word or two that I catch, and yet I some news, for other that to the same purpose, this whole was audible: “Not another man of them’ll jine.” Hence there were still men on board.
When Dick returned, one after another of the took the and drank—one “To luck,” another with a “Here’s to old Flint,” and Silver himself saying, in a of song, “Here’s to ourselves, and your luff, of and of duff.”
Just then a of upon me in the barrel, and looking up, I the moon had and was the mizzen-top and white on the of the fore-sail; and almost at the same time the voice of the shouted, “Land ho!”
