Treasure Island
Narrative Continued by the Doctor: End of the First Day’s Fighting
WE our best speed across the of that now us from the stockade, and at every step we took the voices of the nearer. Soon we their as they ran and the of the as they across a of thicket.
I to see we should have a for it in and looked to my priming.
“Captain,” said I, “Trelawney is the shot. Give him your gun; his own is useless.”
They guns, and Trelawney, and as he had been since the of the bustle, a moment on his to see that all was fit for service. At the same time, Gray to be unarmed, I him my cutlass. It did all our good to see him in his hand, his brows, and make the sing through the air. It was plain from every line of his that our new hand was his salt.
Forty we came to the of the and saw the in of us. We the about the middle of the south side, and almost at the same time, seven mutineers—Job Anderson, the boatswain, at their head—appeared in full at the corner.
They paused as if taken aback, and they recovered, not only the and I, but Hunter and Joyce from the house, had time to fire. The four came in a volley, but they did the business: one of the enemy actually fell, and the rest, without hesitation, and into the trees.
After reloading, we walked the of the to see to the enemy. He was dead—shot through the heart.
We to over our good success when just at that moment a pistol in the bush, a close past my ear, and Tom Redruth and his length on the ground. Both the and I returned the shot, but as we had nothing to at, it is we only powder. Then we reloaded and our attention to Tom.
The captain and Gray were already him, and I saw with an that all was over.
I the of our return had the once more, for we were without to the old over the and carried, and bleeding, into the log-house.
Poor old fellow, he had not one word of surprise, complaint, fear, or from the very of our till now, when we had him in the log-house to die. He had like a Trojan his in the gallery; he had every order silently, doggedly, and well; he was the of our party by a score of years; and now, sullen, old, servant, it was he that was to die.
The him on his and his hand, like a child.
“Be I going, doctor?” he asked.
“Tom, my man,” said I, “you’re going home.”
“I wish I had had a at them with the gun first,” he replied.
“Tom,” said the squire, “say you me, won’t you?”
“Would that be like, from me to you, squire?” was the answer. “Howsoever, so be it, amen!”
After a little while of silence, he said he somebody might read a prayer. “It’s the custom, sir,” he added apologetically. And not long after, without another word, he passed away.
In the meantime the captain, I had to be about the and pockets, had out a great many stores—the British colours, a Bible, a of rope, pen, ink, the log-book, and of tobacco. He had a fir-tree and in the enclosure, and with the help of Hunter he had set it up at the of the log-house where the and an angle. Then, on the roof, he had with his own hand and up the colours.
This to him. He re-entered the log-house and set about up the stores as if nothing else existed. But he had an on Tom’s passage for all that, and as soon as all was over, came with another flag and spread it on the body.
“Don’t you take on, sir,” he said, the squire’s hand. “All’s well with him; no for a hand that’s been in his to captain and owner. It mayn’t be good divinity, but it’s a fact.”
Then he me aside.
“Dr. Livesey,” he said, “in how many do you and the consort?”
I told him it was a question not of but of months, that if we were not by the end of August Blandly was to send to us, but neither sooner later. “You can for yourself,” I said.
“Why, yes,” returned the captain, his head; “and making a large allowance, sir, for all the gifts of Providence, I should say we were close hauled.”
“How do you mean?” I asked.
“It’s a pity, sir, we that second load. That’s what I mean,” the captain. “As for and shot, we’ll do. But the are short, very short—so short, Dr. Livesey, that we’re as well without that mouth.”
And he pointed to the under the flag.
Just then, with a and a whistle, a round-shot passed high above the of the log-house and us in the wood.
“Oho!” said the captain. “Blaze away! You’ve little already, my lads.”
At the second trial, the was better, and the the stockade, a cloud of but doing no damage.
“Captain,” said the squire, “the house is from the ship. It must be the flag they are at. Would it not be to take it in?”
“Strike my colours!” the captain. “No, sir, not I”; and as soon as he had said the words, I think we all with him. For it was not only a piece of stout, seamanly, good feeling; it was good policy and our that we their cannonade.
All through the they away. Ball after over or or up the in the enclosure, but they had to fire so high that the and itself in the soft sand. We had no ricochet to fear, and though one in through the of the log-house and out again through the floor, we soon got used to that of horse-play and it no more than cricket.
“There is one good thing about all this,” the captain; “the in of us is likely clear. The has a good while; our stores should be uncovered. Volunteers to go and in pork.”
Gray and Hunter were the to come forward. Well armed, they out of the stockade, but it proved a mission. The were than we or they put more trust in Israel’s gunnery. For four or five of them were off our stores and out with them to one of the that close by, an or so to her against the current. Silver was in the stern-sheets in command; and every man of them was now provided with a from some magazine of their own.
The captain sat to his log, and here is the of the entry:
Alexander Smollett, master; David Livesey, ship’s doctor; Abraham Gray, carpenter’s mate; John Trelawney, owner; John Hunter and Richard Joyce, owner’s servants, landsmen—being all that is left of the ship’s company—with stores for ten days at rations, came this day and British on the log-house in Treasure Island. Thomas Redruth, owner’s servant, landsman, by the mutineers; James Hawkins, cabin-boy—
And at the same time, I was over Jim Hawkins’ fate.
A on the land side.
“Somebody us,” said Hunter, who was on guard.
“Doctor! Squire! Captain! Hullo, Hunter, is that you?” came the cries.
And I ran to the door in time to see Jim Hawkins, safe and sound, come over the stockade.
