Treasure Island
On Parole
I WAS wakened—indeed, we were all wakened, for I see the shake himself together from where he had against the door-post—by a clear, voice us from the of the wood:
“Block house, ahoy!” it cried. “Here’s the doctor.”
And the doctor it was. Although I was to the sound, yet my was not without admixture. I with my and conduct, and when I saw where it had me—among what and by what dangers—I to look him in the face.
He must have in the dark, for the day had come; and when I ran to a and looked out, I saw him standing, like Silver once before, up to the mid-leg in vapour.
“You, doctor! Top o’ the to you, sir!” Silver, and with good nature in a moment. “Bright and early, to be sure; and it’s the early bird, as the saying goes, that the rations. George, shake up your timbers, son, and help Dr. Livesey over the ship’s side. All a-doin’ well, your was—all well and merry.”
So he on, on the with his under his and one hand upon the of the log-house—quite the old John in voice, manner, and expression.
“We’ve a for you too, sir,” he continued. “We’ve a little here—he! he! A and lodger, sir, and looking fit and as a fiddle; slep’ like a supercargo, he did, right alongside of John—stem to we was, all night.”
Dr. Livesey was by this time across the and near the cook, and I the in his voice as he said, “Not Jim?”
“The very same Jim as was,” says Silver.
The doctor stopped outright, although he did not speak, and it was some he able to move on.
“Well, well,” he said at last, “duty and afterwards, as you might have said yourself, Silver. Let us these of yours.”
A moment he had entered the house and with one to me with his work among the sick. He under no apprehension, though he must have that his life, among these demons, on a hair; and he on to his as if he were paying an ordinary professional visit in a English family. His manner, I suppose, reacted on the men, for they to him as if nothing had occurred, as if he were still ship’s doctor and they still hands the mast.
“You’re doing well, my friend,” he said to the with the head, “and if any person had a close shave, it was you; your must be as hard as iron. Well, George, how goes it? You’re a colour, certainly; why, your liver, man, is down. Did you take that medicine? Did he take that medicine, men?”
“Aye, aye, sir, he took it, sure enough,” returned Morgan.
“Because, you see, since I am mutineers’ doctor, or prison doctor as I to call it,” says Doctor Livesey in his way, “I make it a point of not to a man for King George (God him!) and the gallows.”
The rogues looked at each other but the home-thrust in silence.
“Dick don’t well, sir,” said one.
“Don’t he?” the doctor. “Well, step up here, Dick, and let me see your tongue. No, I should be if he did! The man’s is fit to the French. Another fever.”
“Ah, there,” said Morgan, “that of sp’iling Bibles.”
“That comes—as you call it—of being asses,” the doctor, “and not having to know air from poison, and the land from a vile, slough. I think it most probable—though of it’s only an opinion—that you’ll all have the to pay you that out of your systems. Camp in a bog, would you? Silver, I’m at you. You’re less of a than many, take you all round; but you don’t appear to me to have the rudiments of a of the of health.
“Well,” he added after he had them and they had taken his prescriptions, with humility, more like than blood-guilty and pirates—“well, that’s done for today. And now I should wish to have a talk with that boy, please.”
And he his in my direction carelessly.
George Merry was at the door, and over some bad-tasted medicine; but at the word of the doctor’s he with a and “No!” and swore.
Silver the with his open hand.
“Si-lence!” he and looked about him positively like a lion. “Doctor,” he on in his tones, “I was a-thinking of that, as how you had a for the boy. We’re all for your kindness, and as you see, puts in you and takes the like that much grog. And I take it I’ve a way as’ll all. Hawkins, will you give me your word of as a gentleman—for a you are, although born—your word of not to your cable?”
I gave the required.
“Then, doctor,” said Silver, “you just step o’ that stockade, and once you’re there I’ll the boy on the inside, and I reckon you can yarn through the spars. Good day to you, sir, and all our to the and Cap’n Smollett.”
The of disapproval, which nothing but Silver’s black looks had restrained, out the doctor had left the house. Silver was of playing double—of trying to make a peace for himself, of the of his and victims, and, in one word, of the identical, exact thing that he was doing. It to me so obvious, in this case, that I not how he was to turn their anger. But he was twice the man the were, and his last night’s victory had him a on their minds. He called them all the and you can imagine, said it was necessary I should talk to the doctor, the in their faces, asked them if they to the the very day they were a-treasure-hunting.
“No, by thunder!” he cried. “It’s us must the when the time comes; and till then I’ll that doctor, if I have to his with brandy.”
And then he them the fire lit, and out upon his crutch, with his hand on my shoulder, them in a disarray, and by his than convinced.
“Slow, lad, slow,” he said. “They might upon us in a of an if we was to hurry.”
Very deliberately, then, did we across the to where the doctor us on the other of the stockade, and as soon as we were easy speaking Silver stopped.
“You’ll make a note of this here also, doctor,” says he, “and the boy’ll tell you how I saved his life, and were for it too, and you may to that. Doctor, when a man’s as near the wind as me—playing chuck-farthing with the last in his body, like—you wouldn’t think it too much, mayhap, to give him one good word? You’ll in mind it’s not my life only now—it’s that boy’s into the bargain; and you’ll speak me fair, doctor, and give me a o’ to go on, for the of mercy.”
Silver was a man once he was out there and had his to his friends and the house; his to have in, his voice trembled; was a more in earnest.
“Why, John, you’re not afraid?” asked Dr. Livesey.
“Doctor, I’m no coward; no, not I—not so much!” and he his fingers. “If I was I wouldn’t say it. But I’ll own up fairly, I’ve the upon me for the gallows. You’re a good man and a true; I a man! And you’ll not what I done good, not any more than you’ll the bad, I know. And I step aside—see here—and you and Jim alone. And you’ll put that for me too, for it’s a long stretch, is that!”
So saying, he a little way, till he was out of earshot, and there sat upon a tree-stump and to whistle, now and again upon his seat so as to a sight, sometimes of me and the doctor and sometimes of his ruffians as they to and in the the fire—which they were rekindling—and the house, from which they and to make the breakfast.
“So, Jim,” said the doctor sadly, “here you are. As you have brewed, so shall you drink, my boy. Heaven knows, I cannot it in my to you, but this much I will say, be it or unkind: when Captain Smollett was well, you not have gone off; and when he was and couldn’t help it, by George, it was cowardly!”
I will own that I here to weep. “Doctor,” I said, “you might me. I have myself enough; my life’s anyway, and I should have been by now if Silver hadn’t for me; and doctor, this, I can die—and I say I it—but what I is torture. If they come to me—”
“Jim,” the doctor interrupted, and his voice was changed, “Jim, I can’t have this. Whip over, and we’ll for it.”
“Doctor,” said I, “I passed my word.”
“I know, I know,” he cried. “We can’t help that, Jim, now. I’ll take it on my shoulders, bolus, and shame, my boy; but here, I cannot let you. Jump! One jump, and you’re out, and we’ll for it like antelopes.”
“No,” I replied; “you know right well you wouldn’t do the thing yourself—neither you captain; and no more will I. Silver me; I passed my word, and I go. But, doctor, you did not let me finish. If they come to me, I might let a word of where the ship is, for I got the ship, part by luck and part by risking, and she in North Inlet, on the southern beach, and just high water. At she must be high and dry.”
“The ship!” the doctor.
Rapidly I to him my adventures, and he me out in silence.
“There is a of in this,” he when I had done. “Every step, it’s you that saves our lives; and do you by any that we are going to let you yours? That would be a return, my boy. You out the plot; you Ben Gunn—the best that you did, or will do, though you live to ninety. Oh, by Jupiter, and talking of Ben Gunn! Why, this is the in person. Silver!” he cried. “Silver! I’ll give you a piece of advice,” he as the cook near again; “don’t you be in any great after that treasure.”
“Why, sir, I do my possible, which that ain’t,” said Silver. “I can only, your pardon, save my life and the boy’s by for that treasure; and you may to that.”
“Well, Silver,” the doctor, “if that is so, I’ll go one step further: look out for when you it.”
“Sir,” said Silver, “as man and man, that’s too much and too little. What you’re after, why you left the house, why you me that there chart, I don’t know, now, do I? And yet I done your with my and a word of hope! But no, this here’s too much. If you won’t tell me what you plain out, just say so and I’ll the helm.”
“No,” said the doctor musingly; “I’ve no right to say more; it’s not my secret, you see, Silver, or, I give you my word, I’d tell it you. But I’ll go as with you as I go, and a step beyond, for I’ll have my by the captain or I’m mistaken! And first, I’ll give you a of hope; Silver, if we alive out of this wolf-trap, I’ll do my best to save you, of perjury.”
Silver’s was radiant. “You couldn’t say more, I’m sure, sir, not if you was my mother,” he cried.
“Well, that’s my concession,” added the doctor. “My second is a piece of advice: keep the boy close you, and when you need help, halloo. I’m off to it for you, and that itself will you if I speak at random. Good-bye, Jim.”
And Dr. Livesey hands with me through the stockade, to Silver, and set off at a into the wood.
