Chapter 6
I followed Ben Gunn about a quarter of a mile into the woods. There, standing strong and true, was a stockade. We stopped, for who was in there? Friends or mutineers?
“They’re flying the Union Jack,” whispered Ben Gunn, “and Silver would fly the Jolly Rogers, you can bet. It’s your friends, my mate, come and see.”
Before I could stop him, he began to lift me over the stockade. There was the doctor! How happy I was to see the squire, Hunter and Captain Smollett! They ran to greet me, all of them, having thought me dead before now.
The doctor told me the difficulty they had getting the boats ashore. All the stores had gone to the bottom along with two of the five guns.
The captain sat down to his log, and here is the beginning of the entry:
“Alexander Smollett, master; David Livesey, doctor of the ship Abraham Gray, carpenter’s mate; John Trelawney, owner; John Hunter and Richard Joyce, owner’s servants, landsmen, being all that is left faithful of the company of the ship company. Stores for ten days at short rations. Came ashore this day, and flew the British colours on the log-house on Treasure Island. Thomas Redruth, owner’s servant, lands-man, shot by the mutineers; Jim Hawkins, cabin boy—”
There he had stopped, for it was just then, that I came climbing over the top. I was welcomed warmly by the faithful party.
I had soon told my story, and I told them I could find Ben Gunn when I wanted him. He had told me, “When Ben Gunn is wanted, you know where to find him, Jim. Just where you found him today. And, he wants to talk to Ben Gunn, will come alone. Ben Gunn has reasons of his own.”
“Is this Ben Gunn sane?” asked the doctor.
“I do not know, sir,” I said.
“He asked for cheese?” asked the doctor.
“Yes, sir,” I said, “he wants some cheese more than anything.”
“Well, Jim,” said the doctor, “just see the good of being dainty in your food. You’ve seen my snuff-box, haven’t you? But you never saw me take any snuff, did you? The reason is, I carry a piece of Parmesan cheese; a cheese which is made in Italy. It is very good for you. Well, that’s for Ben Gunn!”
Before supper was eaten we buried old Tom in the sand, and stood around him for a while bareheaded in the breeze. A good deal of firewood had been gathered, but not enough to suit the captain. Then, when we had eaten our pork, we sat down to talk about the stores being so low. We would be starved into surrender if something wasn’t done. But our best hope, it was decided, was to kill off the buccaneers until they either hauled down the flag or ran away with the Hispaniola. From nineteen they were already reduced to fifteen, two others were wounded, and one, at least, dead.
We discovered we had two able allies—rum and the climate.
We could hear them roaring and singing late into the night, though we were a half mile away. The doctor said that camped in the marsh, they’d all be sick with fever.
I was so tired I slept like a log of wood and was awakened by the bustle and sound of voices.
“Flag of truce!” I heard someone say. Then a cry of surprise, “It’s Silver himself!”
I jumped up, rubbing my eyes. I ran to the loophole in the wall. There were two men outside. One of them was waving a white cloth. The other was Silver himself, standing quietly by.
It was still very early, and the coldest morning I ever remember. The sky was bright and cloudless overhead, and tops of the trees shone rosily in the sun. But where Silver stood with his lieutenant all was still in a shadow, and they waded knee-deep in a low white vapour, that had crawled during the night out of the swamp. The chill and the vapour taken together told a poor tale of the island. It was a damp, feverish, unhealthy place to anchor.
“Keep indoors, men,” said the captain, “Ten to one this is a trick.”
Then he hailed the buccaneer. “Who goes? Stand, or we fire.”
“Flag of truce,” cried Silver.
The captain was in the porch, keeping himself back in case they fired. He turned and spoke to us, quietly but urgently.
“Doctor’s watch on the lookout. Dr. Livesey take the north side if you please. Jim, the east. Gray, west. The watch below, all hands to load muskets. Lively, men, and careful.”
Then he turned to the mutineers.
“And what do you want with your flag of truce?” asked Captain Smollett.
“Captain Silver, sir,” Long John shouted, “to come on board and make terms.”
“Captain Silver? Don’t know him,” cried the captain, “must be a promotion.”
“Well sir, these poor lads have chosen me captain, they have sir, and no bones about it,” said Long John Silver, moving closer to the stockade.
“My man,” said Captain Smollett, “I have not the slightest desire to talk to you. If you wish to talk to me, you can come, that’s all. If there is any treachery it’ll be on your side, and the Lord help you.”
“That’s good enough, captain,” shouted Long John cheerily, “A word from you will be enough. I know a gentleman and you may lay to that.”
Silver did not have much trouble getting over the stockade, but the hill leading up was hard work for him. The thick tree stumps and the soft sand made it hard walking with his crutch. He arrived before the captain and saluted him in the handsomest style. He was dressed in his best, with a big blue coat, thick with brass buttons, which hung to his knees and a fine laced hat was set on the back of his head.
“Ah, there’s Jim,” he called, when he saw me, “The top of the morning to you, Jim.”
“Sit down,” said the captain, “and tell me what you have on your mind.”
“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? I know you have it. We want it.”
The two men filled their pipes and began to smoke. It was as good as a play to see them, smoking and talking, and leaning forward to spit now and then.
“Now,” said Silver, “here it is. You give us the chart to get the treasure. Either you come aboard along with us, and I’ll give you my word of honour. I’ll leave you safe somewhere ashore, or if that isn’t to your fancy, some of my hands being rough, might just leave you all right here. We’ll divide stores with you, man for man. I might even send someone back here to pick you up. I say this so all might hear. Upon my word!”
“Is that all?” asked Captain Smollett.
“Every last word, by thunder,” answered John.
“Now, you’ll hear me,” said the captain, “If you’ll come up here one by one, we’ll put you in irons, and see to it that you get a fair trial in England. You can’t find the treasure; you can’t sail the ship, for not a man among you is fit.”
Angrily, Silver shook the fire out of his pipe. His face was dark with anger.
With a dreadful oath he stumbled away, plowing down the sand. His friend helped him over the stockade and they disappeared among the trees.
We began at once to prepare to defend ourselves, for we knew Silver and his men would be back very soon. The captain had seen to that. He told us to put out the fire, for we didn’t want to fight with smoke in our eyes.
“Hawkins, have some breakfast, but stay at your post to eat it,” called Captain Smollett, “Now, doctor, you will take the door. Hunter, take the east side. Joyce, you stand by the west, my man. Mr. Trelawney, you are the best shot. You and Gray will take this long north side. Hawkins, neither you nor I are much account at shooting, so we’ll stand by to load and lend a hand.”
An hour or so passed. Suddenly, Joyce fired. Several bullets struck the log-house.
We didn’t have time to count shots, for over the fence swarmed a small group of men. Squire and Gray fired again and again. Three men fell.
They seemed to come from everywhere! The log-house was full of smoke to which we owed our safety, for in the cries and confusion, we were able to get out into the open.
I snatched a cutlass from the pile and dashed out of the door into the clear sunlight. Next moment I was face to face with one of them. As I raised my cutlass my foot slipped in the soft sand and I went rolling down the hill, headlong.
“Get back to the house,” cried the doctor, “get back under cover.”
In three seconds nothing remained of the attacking party but the five who had fallen.
The doctor and Gray and I ran with full speed for shelter. The survivors would soon be back where they had left their muskets.
Inside, Hunter lay stunned and Joyce was shot through the head never to move again. The squire was holding Captain Smollett in his arms.
“The captain’s wounded,” said Mr. Trelawney.
“Have they run?” asked Mr. Smollett.
“All that could,” said the doctor, “there are five that won’t ever run again.”
