Chapter 10
“Jim,” said Silver, “if I saved your life, you saved mine. I’ll not forget it. I saw the doctor waving you to run for it. With the tail of my eye I saw you tell him no. You and me must stick close now Jim. We’ll save our necks in spite of fate and fortune. Hear me. We’ll stick together.”
Just then a man informed us that breakfast was ready, and we were soon seated here and there about the sand over biscuit and fried junk. They had lit a fire fit to roast an ox. I supposed they had cooked three times more than we could eat. I never in my life saw men so careless of the morrow. I could see their entire unfitness for anything like a long campaign.
“Aye, mates,” said Silver, “it’s lucky you have Barbecue to think for you with this here head. I got what I wanted, I did. Sure enough they have the ship. Where they have it, I don’t know yet. But, once we hit the treasure, we’ll have to jump about and find out. And then, mates, we have the boats, I reckon, have the upper hand.”
He kept talking, with his mouth full of bacon. I know he thought he could restore our faith and hope. The men listened in good humour, too.
“As for hostage,” continued Silver, “that’s his last talk, I guess, with them he loves so dear. I’ll take him in line when we go treasure hunting, you can be sure. Once we got the ship and treasure both, and off to sea like jolly companions, why we’ll talk Mr. Hawkins over, we will.”
Silver still had a foot in either camp, and there was no doubt he would prefer wealth and freedom with the pirates to a bare escape from hanging.
What danger lay before us! What if he, a cripple and I, a boy, should have to fight against five strong and active seamen!
The mystery that still confused me, was why did the doctor give Silver the chart? Why did they leave the stockade? Why did the doctor warn Silver to look out, when they found the treasure?
We made a curious sight! All of us in soiled sailor clothes, and all but me armed to the teeth. Silver had two guns slung about him, one before and one behind. Besides the great cutlass at his waist, he carried a pistol in each pocket of his square-tailed coat. To complete his strange appearance, Captain Flint sat perched upon his shoulder and gabbling odds and ends of purposeless sea talk. I had a line about my waist, and followed obediently after the sea cook. Sometimes he held the loose end of the rope in his free hand and often between his powerful teeth. For all the world I was led like a dancing bear.
Some of the men carried picks and shovels. I saw pork and bread from our own stores, ready for the noon meal. Had Silver not struck a bargain with the doctor, these men would have had water to drink and only what they could hunt on the island.
We all set out for the gigs. They were a sorry sight, full of mud and half broken. We divided ourselves between them and set forth. We headed for the cliff called the Mizzenmast Hill.
Remembering the terms on the back of the note, Silver began to quote:
“Tall tree, Spyglass shoulder, bearing a point to the N. of N.N.E. Skeleton Island E.S.E. and by E. Ten feet.”
A tall tree was thus the principal mark. The top of the plateau was dotted thickly with pine trees of varying height. Every once in a while there would be one which rose forty or fifty feet clear above its neighbours. Which of these could be the particular “tall tree” of Captain Flint would have to be decided by the readings of the compass.
We landed at the mouth of a river which ran down towards the Spyglass. Silver called to the men to pull easy so as not to tire themselves.
The hills began to be steeper and stony under feet. The woods changed as we walked deeper into heavy scented bloom and shrubs. Thickets of green nutmeg were dotted here and there. The air was fresh and stirring and the sun hot.
The party went on ahead shouting and leaping. I had to help Silver, for tied to him as I was; lie almost lost his footing and fell backward down the hill. We were a good way behind the others. We must have walked about a half a mile when the man farthest ahead began to cry aloud, as if in terror. Shout after shout came from him, and the others began to run in his direction.
“He can’t have found the treasure,” said old Morgan, hurrying ahead of us, “for that’s clean at the top of that hill.”
Indeed, it was something very different. We stood staring down at the ground. At the foot of a big pine tree, lay a human skeleton. A few shreds of clothing were on the ground and the green ivy crawled in and out among the smaller bones. I believe a chill struck for a moment in every heart. I could only stare!
“He was a seaman,” said George, who bolder than the rest, had gone up close to look at the rags on the bones. “Anyway, it’s sea cloth.”
“Aye, aye,” said Silver, “like enough. But what sort of a way is that for bones to lie?”
We all looked more closely. The man lay perfectly straight, his feet pointing in one direction, his hands were raised above his head like a diver’s, pointing in the opposite direction.
“I’ve taken a notion into my old numskull,” said Silver, “Here’s the compass and there’s the top point of Skeleton Island, sticking out like a tooth. Just take a bearing, will you, along the line of them bones.”
It was done. The body pointed straight in the direction of the island, and the compass read E.S.E. and by E.
“I thought so,” cried the cook, here is a pointer. There is our line for the Pole Star and the jolly dollars. But, by thunder! If it doesn’t make me cold inside to think of Flint. This is one of his jokes, and no mistake. He and these six were alone here. He killed them, every man. This one he hauled down here and laid down by compass. Shiver my timbers! They’re long bones, and the hair’s been yellow. Aye, that would he Allardyce. You remember Allardyce, Tom Morgan?”
“Aye aye,” returned Morgan, “I remember him. He owed me money, he did, and took my knife ashore with him. I wonder if it’s here?”
“There isn’t a thing left here,” said Silver, “and it wasn’t like Flint to pick a seaman’s pocket. The birds would leave a knife be, too.”
“It doen’t seem right,” said George.
“Great guns!” said Silver, “if Flint was living this would be a hot spot for us.”
“I saw him dead,” said Morgan, “with my own eyes, I saw him with the penny-pieces on his eyes.”
“Dead, aye,” said one of the pirates, “but if ever a spirit walked, it would be Flint’s.”
“Aye,” said one of the others, “but remember how he sang before he died. I can still hear him singing, ‘fifteen men’.”
“Come, come,” said Silver, “stop this talk. He’s dead, and he doesn’t walk, that I know. At least, he doesn’t walk by day. Look ahead.”
We started on our way again. But now the men did not lump on ahead, yelling as before. Instead, they kept side by side. The terror of the dead buccaneer had fallen on their spirits.
Partly because of fear, and partly to rest Silver, and the injured men, we rested at the top of the hill. The men still spoke in whispers.
Sheer above us rose the Spyglass, here dotted with single pines, there black with precipices. There was no sound but that of the distant breakers, and the chirp of countless insects. The men sat very still and listened. All of a sudden, out of the middle of the trees in front of us, a thin high, trembling voice began to sing:
Fifteen men on the dead man’s chest-
Yo-ho-ho-, and a bottle of rum!
I never had seen men more dreadfully affected than the pirates. The colour went from their six faces at once. Some leaped to their feet, some clawed at one another. Morgan grovelled on the ground, moaning to himself.
“It’s Flint,” called someone.
“Come,” said Silver, struggling with his ashen lips to get the words out, “this won’t do.”
Once again came the song, from far off. Dick had his Bible out, praying loudly, all the while.
“I never did hear of a spirit, with an echo. Did you, mates?” asked Silver, with courage. “I just can’t place that voice. Not Flint’s, but, by the powers, Ben Gunn!”
“Aye,” cried Morgan, “so it was. Ben Gunn!”
“But it doesn’t make much difference,” said Dick, because, Ben Gunn isn’t here in body either.”
“Well” laughed Morgan, “nobody minds Ben Gunn, dead or alive.”
Their spirits rose at once and shouldering the tools the pirates set forth once more.
We were at the margin of the thicket and more light shown through the trees.
“Hurry, mates,” yelled one called Merry, “all together now. Treasure just ahead.”
Suddenly, not ten yards further, we saw them all stop. A low cry arose. Silver walked as fast as he could, digging away with the foot of his crutch like one possessed. The next moment he and I had come also to a dead halt.
Before us was a great excavation, not very recent, for the sides had fallen in and the grass had sprouted at the bottom. A broken pick or two lay in the shaft. A packing case boards were strewn around. On one of these, I read, branded with a hot iron, the name Walrus. Flint’s ship!
The treasure had been found and was gone!
