Treasure Island
“Pieces of Eight”
OWING to the cant of the vessel, the out over the water, and from my on the cross-trees I had nothing me but the surface of the bay. Hands, who was not so up, was in nearer to the ship and me and the bulwarks. He rose once to the surface in a of and blood and then again for good. As the water settled, I see him together on the clean, in the of the vessel’s sides. A fish or two past his body. Sometimes, by the of the water, he appeared to move a little, as if he were trying to rise. But he was enough, for all that, being and drowned, and was food for fish in the very place where he had designed my slaughter.
I was no sooner of this than I to sick, faint, and terrified. The blood was over my and chest. The dirk, where it had my to the mast, to like a iron; yet it was not so much these that me, for these, it to me, I without a murmur; it was the I had upon my mind of from the cross-trees into that still green water, the of the coxswain.
I with hands till my ached, and I my as if to up the peril. Gradually my mind came again, my to a more natural time, and I was once more in of myself.
It was my to the dirk, but either it too hard or my nerve failed me, and I with a shudder. Oddly enough, that very did the business. The knife, in fact, had come the nearest in the world to missing me altogether; it me by a pinch of skin, and this the away. The blood ran the faster, to be sure, but I was my own master again and only to the by my and shirt.
These last I through with a jerk, and then the by the shrouds. For nothing in the world would I have again ventured, as I was, upon the port from which Israel had so fallen.
I and did what I for my wound; it me a good and still freely, but it was neither dangerous, did it me when I used my arm. Then I looked around me, and as the ship was now, in a sense, my own, I to think of it from its last passenger—the man, O’Brien.
He had pitched, as I have said, against the bulwarks, where he like some horrible, of puppet, life-size, indeed, but how different from life’s colour or life’s comeliness! In that position I easily have my way with him, and as the of had off almost all my terror for the dead, I took him by the as if he had been a of and with one good heave, him overboard. He in with a plunge; the red cap came off and on the surface; and as soon as the subsided, I see him and Israel by side, with the movement of the water. O’Brien, though still a man, was very bald. There he lay, with that across the of the man who had killed him and the quick to and over both.
I was now alone upon the ship; the had just turned. The sun was so of setting that already the of the upon the western to right across the and in patterns on the deck. The had up, and though it was well off by the hill with the two upon the east, the had to sing a little to itself and the to to and fro.
I to see a to the ship. The I and to the deck, but the main-sail was a matter. Of course, when the over, the had out-board, and the cap of it and a or two of sail under water. I this it still more dangerous; yet the was so that I to meddle. At last I got my knife and cut the halyards. The instantly, a great of upon the water, and since, as I liked, I not the downhall, that was the of what I accomplish. For the rest, the Hispaniola must trust to luck, like myself.
By this time the whole had into shadow—the last rays, I remember, through a of the and as on the of the wreck. It to be chill; the was seaward, the settling more and more on her beam-ends.
I and looked over. It enough, and the cut in hands for a last security, I let myself overboard. The water my waist; the was and with marks, and I in great spirits, the Hispaniola on her side, with her main-sail wide upon the surface of the bay. About the same time, the sun and the low in the among the pines.
At least, and at last, I was off the sea, had I returned empty-handed. There the schooner, clear at last from and for our own men to and to sea again. I had nothing nearer my than to home to the and of my achievements. Possibly I might be a for my truantry, but the recapture of the Hispaniola was a answer, and I that Captain Smollett would I had not my time.
So thinking, and in famous spirits, I to set my for the house and my companions. I that the most of the which into Captain Kidd’s ran from the two-peaked hill upon my left, and I my in that direction that I might pass the while it was small. The was open, and along the spurs, I had soon the of that hill, and not long after to the mid-calf across the watercourse.
This me near to where I had Ben Gunn, the maroon; and I walked more circumspectly, an on every side. The had come hand completely, and as I opened out the the two peaks, I aware of a against the sky, where, as I judged, the man of the was cooking his supper a fire. And yet I wondered, in my heart, that he should himself so careless. For if I see this radiance, might it not the of Silver himself where he upon the among the marshes?
Gradually the night blacker; it was all I do to myself my destination; the hill me and the Spy-glass on my right hand and fainter; the were and pale; and in the low ground where I I among and into pits.
Suddenly a of about me. I looked up; a of had on the of the Spy-glass, and soon after I saw something and moving low the trees, and the moon had risen.
With this to help me, I passed over what to me of my journey, and sometimes walking, sometimes running, near to the stockade. Yet, as I to the that it, I was not so but that I my and a warily. It would have been a end of my to by my own party in mistake.
The moon was higher and higher, its light to here and there in through the more open of the wood, and right in of me a of a different colour appeared among the trees. It was red and hot, and now and again it was a little darkened—as it were, the of a smouldering.
For the life of me I not think what it might be.
At last I came right upon the borders of the clearing. The western end was already in moonshine; the rest, and the house itself, still in a black with long of light. On the other of the house an fire had itself into clear and a steady, red reverberation, with the of the moon. There was not a a the of the breeze.
I stopped, with much wonder in my heart, and a little terror also. It had not been our way to great fires; we were, indeed, by the captain’s orders, of firewood, and I to that something had gone while I was absent.
I by the end, close in shadow, and at a place, where the was thickest, the palisade.
To make surer, I got upon my hands and and crawled, without a sound, the of the house. As I nearer, my was and lightened. It is not a noise in itself, and I have often of it at other times, but just then it was like music to my friends together so loud and peaceful in their sleep. The sea-cry of the watch, that “All’s well,” more on my ear.
In the meantime, there was no of one thing; they an watch. If it had been Silver and his that were now in on them, not a would have daybreak. That was what it was, I, to have the captain wounded; and again I myself for them in that with so to guard.
By this time I had got to the door and up. All was dark within, so that I nothing by the eye. As for sounds, there was the of the and a small occasional noise, a or that I in no way account for.
With my arms me I walked in. I should in my own place (I with a chuckle) and their when they me in the morning.
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My something yielding—it was a sleeper’s leg; and he and groaned, but without awaking.
And then, all of a sudden, a voice out of the darkness:
“Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!” and so forth, without pause or change, like the of a mill.
Silver’s green parrot, Captain Flint! It was she I had at a piece of bark; it was she, watch than any being, who thus my with her refrain.
I had no time left me to recover. At the sharp, of the parrot, the and up; and with a oath, the voice of Silver cried, “Who goes?”
I to run, against one person, recoiled, and ran full into the arms of a second, who for his part closed upon and me tight.
“Bring a torch, Dick,” said Silver when my was thus assured.
And one of the men left the log-house and presently returned with a brand.
