Chapter 5
I was so happy to have got away from Long John Silver that I began to look around and enjoy myself. The island was very strange.
After walking through a great area of swamp land, I found a sandy piece of country, about a mile long, dotted with a few pines, and a great number of giant, pale green willows. On the far side of the open country, stood one of the hills, with two queer, craggy peaks, shining vividly in the hot sun.
For the first time I felt the joy of exploration. The isle was uninhabited, and my shipmates were far behind me. Nothing lived on the island except dumb animals and fowls. I ran in and out among the trees. Here and there were plants and flowers I did not know. One thing frightened me badly. A snake lifted its head from the ledge of a rock and hissed at me with a noise not unlike the spinning of a top. Little did I know then, that it was a deadly enemy, and that the noise was the famous rattle.
Then I came to a long thicket of oak-like trees, whose limbs curled like snakes in and around the other trees. The thicket led to a swamp, which was steaming in the hot sun.
All at once, there began a sort of bustle among the weeds. The ducks flew up and a great cloud of birds hung screaming and circling in the air. I thought one of the men must have followed me, for I heard the voice of a man. It grew louder and nearer all the time.
I was so afraid that I crawled under the nearest live-oak, and squatted there, silent as a mouse. I didn’t have to wait long.
One of the voices was Silver’s and he took up the story of Billy Bones and the treasure. He was so busy telling about his adventures he did not even look down at the bush in which I hid.
Waiting until they were far away, I began to crawl on all fours. I could see down into a little green dell beside the marsh, and there stood Long John Silver, talking to his crew.
The sun beat full upon them. Silver had thrown his hat beside him on the ground, and his great, smooth, blond face, all shining with heat, was lifted, talking to another man.
“Mate,” he was saying, “it’s because I think gold dust has blinded you. Watch yourselves that you aren’t in too much of a hurry.”
From where I sat I could hear the other man tell Silver, “You are old, and honest, but you have money and us poor sailors haven’t.”
As they stood there talking, they were interrupted by a cry far out in the marsh. At first, it was a cry of anger, then another, long-drawn scream. A horrid scream which echoed over and over the rocks. It rang in my brain.
‘John!” cried one of the men reaching out his hand.
“Hands off,” cried Silver, leaping back.
“In heaven’s name, tell me, what was that?” asked the sailor.
“That?” returned Silver, smiling with a gleam in his eye. “That? Oh, I reckon that’ll be Alan.”
At that, the poor sailor flashed out like a real hero. He looked right at Silver and said, “Alan! then rest his soul for a true seaman! And as for you, John Silver, you’re no mate of mine any more. If I die like a dog, I’ll die in my duty. You’ve killed Alan, haven’t you? Kill me, too, if you can. But just try it.”
With that, the brave sailor, turned and started to walk away from Silver. But he did not go far. Long John Silver seized the branch of a tree, whipped the crutch out of his armpit, and sent it hurtling through the air. It struck the poor man, point first, right between the shoulders in the middle of his back. His hands flew up; he gave a small gasp, and fell.
Whether he was injured much or little, none could ever tell. I think his back must have been broken. But it didn’t make any difference, for Silver, agile as a monkey, even without a leg or crutch, jumped on him. He buried his knife to the hilt, twice, in the defenseless body. I could hear him breathing hard as he cleaned his knife in the long grass nearby.
I don’t know just what it is like to faint, but for the next few minutes the world swam away from me in a whirling mist. Silver and the birds, and the tall Spyglass hilltop, went around and around and all manner of bells rang, while distant voices seemed to call to me.
When I came to myself, the monster was walking away, with his crutch back under his arm, and his hat upon his head.
John put his hand in his pocket, brought out a whistle and began to blow. I had no doubt it would bring all his crew in a hurry. I ran as quickly as I could, under the bush and as far away as I dared from Long John Silver.
Suddenly, I knew that I was lost. Indeed, could anyone be more entirely lost than I? How could I go back to the boat when the shot was fired? Surely the men would know I had been somewhere near when the seaman had been killed. If I didn’t go back to the boat, they’d know I had seen so much I was afraid to go back. It was all over, I thought.
Good-bye to the Hispaniola. Good-by to Mr. Trelawney, the doctor and the captain! There was nothing left for me but death by starvation, or death by the hands of the mutineers.
All this time I had been walking along not noticing that the island had changed. Even the smell was different. The air, too, smelled more fresh than down beside the marsh.
Suddenly, I stopped still, my heart pounding like a hammer! A figure, leaped behind a tree! I couldn’t tell whether it was a bear or man or monkey. It seemed dark and shaggy. I stood still, too frightened to move.
I felt cut off from all sides. Really I was less afraid of Long John Silver. Before I could run in the other direction, the figure jumped out from behind the tree and headed me off. When I watched him run from tree to tree in front of me, I knew he was a man. I tried to think of some way to escape. My pistol! In my hurry to get away from Silver, I had forgotten about my pistol. I felt it hard against my side. Now, I knew I was not defenseless, and courage glowed again in my heart. I made myself look very brave, as I walked out to meet this terrible looking man.
He stayed behind the trees until I was very close to him. Then, he came forward and fell to his knees, and held out his hands to me.
I stared at him.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“Ben Gunn,” he answered, and his voice sounded hoarse and awkward. “I’m poor Ben Gunn, I am. I haven’t spoken with a person in three years.”
I could now see that he was a white man like myself, and that his features were even pleasing. His skin, wherever it was exposed, was burned by the sun. Even his lips were black, and his fair eyes looked quite startling in so dark a face. Of all the beggar men I had ever seen, he was the chief for raggedness. He was clothed with tatters of the canvas of an old ship old ship’s canvas and old sea cloth. This extraordinary patchwork was all held together by a system of the most unusual fastenings: big, brass buttons, bits of sticks, and loops of cloth. An old brass buckled leather belt, around his waist, was the one thing solid in his whole outfit.
“Three years!” I cried, “Were you shipwrecked? All alone?”
“Nay, mate,” said he, “marooned.”
I had heard the word, and I knew it stood for a horrible kind of punishment common enough among the buccaneers. The offender was put ashore with a little powder and shot, and left behind on some distant island.
“Marooned three years ago,” he continued, “and lived on goats since then, and berries and oysters. Wherever a man is, say I, a man can do for himself. But, I’m hungry for good food. You don’t happen to have any cheese on you. No? Oh, many is the night I’ve dreamed of cheese, toasted, mostly, and woke up again, and here I am.”
“If ever I can get aboard again,” said I, “you shall have some cheese.”
“Who’s to hinder you?” he asked.
“Well, not you, I know,” I said.
“Right you were,” he cried, “and what might they call you?”
“Jim,” I told him, “Jim Hawkins.”
“Jim, my boy, I’ll make you a rich man for finding me,” said he, “but, that’s not Flint’s ship, is it?”
“It’s not Flint’s ship and Flint is dead,” I said, happy to see the look on his face. “But,” I added, “there are some of Flint’s men on board.”
“Not a man, with one leg?” he gasped.
“Silver?” I asked.
“Ah, Silver!” says he, “that was his name.”
“He’s the cook and the ringleader, too.” I began at once to tell him my whole story.
“Now, I’ll tell you,” he said, “about poor old Ben Gunn. I was on Flint’s ship when he buried the treasure. He killed six men, he did. The mate, Billy Bones, knew it and that man Silver. Well, I was in another ship, three years back, and they gave me a spade and told me to stay here and find that treasure. And, I was a good man, once.”
Just then, the island awoke and bellowed to the thunder of a cannon.
“They have begun to fight!” I cried.
“Run to the left,” he called, “to the left. This way, come with me.”
