Chapter 8
We dared not beach the ship until the tide flowed a good deal farther; so time hung on our hands. We sat in silence over another meal, when Israel Hands suggested I should throw the body of his shipmate overboard.
“I’m not strong enough, and I don’t like the job. He can just lie there, for all I care,” I told him, speaking the truth, too.
“This here’s an unlucky ship, this Hispaniola, Jim,” he went on, blinking, “There’s a lot of men been killed in this Hispaniola. Many a poor seamen dead and gone since you and me took off from Bristol. I have never seen such dirty luck. It makes me feel right bad.”
“Some of it was your own doing,” I said.
“I know that lad, and I’m a sorry man, I am,” he groaned, trying to get to his feet, “Will you do a poor dying man a favour, mate?”
“Maybe,” said I, feeling very sure of myself.
“Would you get me a bit of wine from the cabin?” he asked, rolling his eyes and moaning.
The whole situation did not feel right to me. He wanted me to leave the deck, that much was plain to me, but for what purpose? His eyes never met mine. They kept wandering first to the sky and over to the dead man. All the time he was smiling and putting his tongue out in a most guilty manner. He was clearly up to something.
“Some wine?” I said. “Will you have red or white? Or, doesn’t it matter to you, mate?”
“It’s all the same to me, mate. Just bring me plenty of it. I feel the need of something very strong. I am far gone, to be sure,” he coughed as he said this, and certainly did sound like a man soon to meet his Maker.
With that, I bade him rest quietly and hurried off towards the cabin. Soon as I was out of his sight I took off my shoes and walked back to where I could watch him. I took no chances. I knew that I could not trust him.
He had risen from his position to his hands and knees. His leg must have hurt him badly for he groaned as he moved. He found a piece of rope and a long knife, still covered with blood. He put it in his shirt and went back to the exact spot I had left him. He closed his eyes and waited for me to return. His face was white and his hands shook as I handed him the wine.
“Here’s to luck,” he said, breaking the neck of the bottle off and taking a long drink. “Now, mate, if you will cut me off a piece of tobacco.”
I did so, knowing full well he had a knife of his own to use at any time.
“Now,” called Hands, “look there. There’s a pet place to beach a ship in.”
He was right. I was so excited about handling the ship and admiring the way he called orders to me, that I forgot to watch him.
Perhaps I heard a creak, or had seen his shadow out of the tail of my eye. For, as I turned around, there was Hands, walking towards me with his bloody knife high in the air.
We must both have cried out aloud when our eyes met. While I cried out in fear, he roared like a charging bull. He threw himself forward and I leaped to one side. He fell for a moment, weak as he was, but was soon on his feet and once more coining towards me. His grizzled hair hung over his face and he waved his knife from side to side.
My courage began to rise as I realized he was not nearly as fast on his feet as he should be to catch me. I had played games like this but I knew this was not a game but a fight for my very life.
Suddenly the ship ground in the sand and we were both thrown to the deck. I had one pistol ready for use. To be doubly sure, I proceeded to draw and load the other. With a pistol in either hand, I spoke to him.
“One more step, Mr. Hands,” said I, “and I’ll blow your brains out! Dead men don’t bite, you know,” I added, with a loud chuckle.
He stopped instantly. I could see him thinking fast. Feeling very sure of myself, I was even smiling, when his dagger sang past my head like an arrow.
I left a blow and then a sharp pang. My shoulder was pinned to the mast. In the horrid pain of the moment, both my pistols went off. Because of the way the Hispaniola was tipped, Israel Hands staggered and plunged head first into the water. He rose once to the surface in a lather of foam and blood and then sank for good.
I was sick, faint and terrified. The hot blood was running over my back and chest. The knife held me to the mast by the skin alone. I was not so afraid of the pain as I was of falling loose quickly and falling into the water on top of the body floating beneath me. I shuddered at the thought of it. Oddly enough, that very shudder did the business. The knife, in fact, had come near to missing me altogether. It held me by a pinch of skin, and the shudder tore it away. The blood ran down faster, to be sure, but I was my own master again. I had won the battle.
I went below, and did what I could for my arm. The time had come for me to take care of the other body. I took him by the waist and heaved him overboard. He floated beside Israel, while the fish swam to and fro over them.
I was now alone upon the ship. The tide had just turned. The sun was within so few degrees of setting that already the shadow of the pines upon the western shore began to reach right across the anchorage, and make patterns on the deck. The evening breeze had sprung up and the idle sails began to rattle to and fro.
I began to see danger for the ship. It began to chill as the tide went rapidly seaward. The schooner settled down in shallow water. I let myself drop softly overboard. The water scarcely reached my waist. I waded to shore in great spirits. About the same time the sun went down and the breeze whistled low in the dusk among the tossing pines. The Hispaniola lay on her side, her mainsail trailing wide upon the surface of the bay.
At last I was off the sea. Maybe they would blame me for leaving my post at the stockade but they would have to thank me for the Hispaniola!
Gradually the night fell blacker. I began to worry that I would walk right into Silver’s camp. I kept to the underground but kept rolling into the sand pits. I searched for the summit of Spyglass.
At last I came right upon the borders of the clearing by the stockade. A great fire burned on the other side, casting a strange glow over all. There was not a soul stirring, nor a sound.
I stopped, with much wonder in my heart, and perhaps a little terror too.
I stole around by the eastern end, keeping close to the shadows. Crawling on my hands and knees, without a sound, I made it to the corner of the house. My heart was greatly lightened, for almost at once I could hear the men snoring. Then, like music to my ears, came the cry of the night watch, “All’s Well.”
When I reached the door I stood up and walked straight in. They would find me in my own place in the morning. It would be a good joke on them!
My foot struck something. A man turned over, groaning in his sleep, but did not awaken.
Then, all of a sudden, a shrill voice broke forth out of the darkness. “Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!” it said.
“Who goes there?” roared Long John Silver.
