Chapter 7
There was no return of the mutineers—not so much as another shot out of the woods. The squire and I cooked outside in spite of the danger. Even though we worked hard, we could still hear the loud groans of the injured men.
As for the captain, his wounds were bad but not too dangerous. The shot had broken his shoulder blade and touched the lung. He was sure to recover, but he must not walk nor move his arm, nor so much as speak when he could help it.
After dinner the squire and the doctor sat by the captain’s bed and talked. It was past noon when the doctor took up his hat and pistols, put on a cutlass, put the chart in his pocket and set off quickly through the woods.
“Why, in the name of Davy Jones,” said Gray, “is the doctor mad?”
“I’m sure he is the last man to be mad,” I said, “If I am right he is going to see Ben Gunn.”
The house felt stifling hot to me. I envied the doctor, walking in the cool shadow of the woods.
I suppose I was a fool for what I did. As I walked past a breadbag, I reached in and took as many biscuits as my pockets would hold. Still not sure of my plan, I knew at least I wouldn’t starve.
The next thing I took were pistols, and as I already had a powder-horn and bullets, I felt I was well supplied with arms.
My scheme was to go down the sandy pit that divided the anchorage on the east from the open sea and find the white rock. I was sure Ben Gunn had put his boat there. I ran quickly towards the cool air which seemed to toss the boughs above me.
I walked along beside the surf with great enjoyment. Soon, I took cover in some thick bushes, and crept carefully up to the ridge of the pit.
The Hispaniola was just below me now, and a gig, with Silver in the stern, was rowing to shore.
I couldn’t hear a word that was said, but I did hear the most horrid, unearthly scream! Though it startled me badly, I decided to find the boat at once.
Just about the same time the sun went down behind the Spyglass, and as the fog was collecting rapidly, it began to grow dark in earnest.
I crawled a good deal of the way on all fours towards the white rock. My hands felt goatskin. Sure enough, Ben Gunn had made a small tent of goatskin and put his boat under it.
The boat was a rude, lopsided framework of tough wood. Stretched over that was a covering of goatskin, with the hair inside. The thing was extremely small, even for me, and I can hardly imagine how it could carry a full-sized man. The ancient Britons built boats called coracles, and Ben Gunn’s was very much on that order-only very roughly made. It had one big advantage because it was very light and portable. It had double—paddles for propulsion. It seemed to me that I would never be able to get it out into the water. I had made up my mind by this time as to what I had to do. I doubt if even Captain Smollett could have stopped me, if he had been standing beside me.
I had decided that the mutineers, after their defeat, wanted to take up anchor and get away to sea. I was going to try and prevent them from doing this.
I sat down to wait for darkness and made a hearty meal of biscuit. The fog had now buried all heaven. It was just the kind of a night I needed for my plan. As the last rays of daylight dwindled and disappeared, absolute darkness settled down on Treasure Island. I lifted the boat and stumbled out of the hollow in which I had been hiding. I could see a great fire on shore where the pirates had gathered for the night.
I could see a blur of light where the Hispaniola was anchored. The only lights aboard were in the cabin. Ghostly lights reflected in the fog.
I waded through a long belt of swampy sand, where I sank several times above the ankle.
The boat was a queer thing to handle. Paddle as I pleased, the tide was still sweeping me down. There lay the Hispaniola right in my path.
Soon I was along side of her and had taken hold of the anchor rope. The current was so strong that it pulled on her anchor. All round the hull, in the blackness, the rippling current bubbled and chattered like a little mountain stream. One cut with my sea gully, and the Hispaniola would go floating down the tide. I felt very smart about it.
Suddenly it occurred to me that if I cut such a taut line, the Hispaniola would swing so quickly, the coracle and I would be knocked into the water.
This brought me to a full stop. Just as I decided I might have to give up my plan, a puff of wind caught the Hispaniola, and forced her up into the current. To my great joy, I felt the rope slacken in my grasp, and the hand by which I held it dip for a second under water.
With that I made up my mind, took out my gully, opened it with my teeth, and cut one strand at a time.
The vessel swung by only two small ropes and I waited for a breath of wind and severed those two. The Hispaniola swung free.
I heard voices in the cabin. They belonged to Israel Hands and one of the other mates. They seemed to be very angry. I didn’t have time to listen, for I was swept against the bows of the boat. At the time schooner began to turn upon her heel, spinning slowly, end for end, across the current. I expected every moment to be swamped. At length I was clear of my dangerous neighbour. As I pushed away, my hands came across a light cord trailing overboard. Instantly I grasped it.
I decided I should have a look in the cabin window. I pulled myself up, hand over hand. Even before I was near the cabin I could hear the fighting going on inside.
Hanging on the best I could, I looked into the cabin. There were Hands and his companion locked together in deadly combat, each with a hand at the other’s throat.
I got back down into my boat and decided I would have to let the end of all this be resolved by my Maker, for I could not get away from the ship. I could perhaps, bear to die, but I didn’t want to see how it was going to happen to me. I lay down flat in the bottom and waited.
I must have lain thusly for hours, continually beaten to and fro upon the billows. Flying sprays washed over me again and again. Gradually weariness grew upon me, and a kind of numbness, fell upon my mind. Even though I was filled with fear I slept and dreamed of home and the old ‘Admiral Benbow’.
It was broad day when I awoke, and found myself tossing at the southwest end of Treasure Island. The sun was up, but was still hidden from me behind the great bulk of the Spyglass.
It seemed to me I would be dashed to my death on the jagged rocks. Nor was that all, for crawling over the flat rocks, were huge slimy monsters. They looked like soft snails of incredible bigness. They sat on the rocks and barked. I learnt later, they were sea lions, and entirely harmless. I felt willing to starve at sea than to face those monsters. I had never seen anything like them before, and I was sure they would kill me.
I knew I had to be very bold, so I sat up, just looking over the top and began to paddle with all my might. Once in a while I had to use my cap to bale out the water, rolling over the sides.
At last I was close in, for I could see the cool, green treetops swaying in the breeze. The sight of them made me sick with longing for land.
However, I wasn’t to reach land just yet. So intent was I in hurrying to shore, I didn’t notice how close the Hispaniola was to my small craft. Not a half mile away and coming towards me at a good rate of speed. I could do nothing but stare!
It soon became plain to me that nobody was steering. Who was aboard? Had they deserted the ship or was it a trick? I decided to go on board and return the vessel to the captain myself!
Once I shipped a sea so heavy that I had to stop and bail, with my heart fluttering like a bird. Finally I guided the coracle among the waves, and was soon gaining on the schooner. No soul appeared upon her decks. I decided she must have been deserted. I had to go on board and find out.
At last I had my chance. The mainsail hung drooped like a banner. I caught the jib-boom with one hand, and clung there, panting.
There were two watchmen. One on his back, stiff as could be. Israel Hands, rolled his eyes towards me and moaned. So, they weren’t both dead. Israel Hands was hurt badly but alive. I asked him if he would like a drink of water.
“Aye,” said he, “I could use it.”
“I can’t have these colours, Mr. Hands,” said I, “so I’ll strike them, I will.”
Dodging the boom, I ran to the colour lines, hauled down their cursed black flag, and tossed it overboard. Feeling very brave and proud I yelled, “God save the king! And there’s an end to Silver!”
He watched me keenly and slyly, his chin all the while on his breast. He was weak, but strong enough to make suggestions.
“You’ll want to go ashore, won’t you Captain Hawkins?” he asked, all the while, grinning.
“With all my heart, Mr. Hands,” I told him “I’ve lost, I know,” he said, “so why not let me help you sail her in?”
We struck our bargain on the spot. It was true I needed his help. We set sail at once.
I was greatly elate with my new command but I did not like the smile on the pirate’s face!
