Treasure Island by RL Stevenson. Part 2.
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Later that day, I took the captain a cool drink.
‘Jim,’ he said,’ you’re the only person here worth anything. You’ll bring me some rum, won’t you, boy?’
‘The doctor said -‘ I began.
He swore about the doctor. ‘Look, Jim, one glass is all I ask. I’ll pay you for it.’
‘The only money I want,’ I said, ‘is the money you owe my father. But I’ll get you one glass of rum, no more.’
He was grateful and drank it quickly. ‘Did the doctor say how long I must lie in my bed?’ he asked.
‘A week,’ I told him.
‘A week!’ he cried. ‘I can’t do that. They’ll have the black spot on me by then. They’ll come for me.’
‘Who will? Black Dog?’ I said.
‘Yes, but there’s worse than him. It’s my old sea-chest they want, but I’ll show them! Jim, if I get the black spot, you go to that doctor. Tell him to bring a crowd of law officers and a local judge to the inn. They can catch Flint’s crew – all that are left – at the Admiral Benbow. I was Flint’s first ship’s officer, and I’m the only one who knows the place. He told me when he was dying. But don’t call the law unless they give me the black spot, or if you see the seaman with one leg – he’s worse than any of them.’
‘But what is the black spot, captain?’ I asked.
‘That’s a message, boy. I’ll tell you if they give me that. Keep your eyes open, Jim, and I’ll give you half of everything I have.’ He talked for a little longer then fell into a deep sleep, and I left him.
That night, my father died. This put all other thoughts to one side and I had no time to worry about the captain.
The next morning, the captain came downstairs. He didn’t eat much food but he drank more rum than usual. He helped himself and we were too busy to stop him. There were visits from neighbours, and my father’s burial to arrange.
The day after the burial was cold and foggy. At about three o’clock in the afternoon, I was standing at the door of the inn when I saw a blind man coming along the road. He was feeling his way with a stick.
‘Will any kind friend tell a poor blind man where he is?’he said.
‘You’re at the Admiral Benbow inn, Black Hill Cove, my good man,’ I said.
‘I hear a young voice,’ he said. Will you give me your hand, my kind young friend, and take me inside?’
I held out my hand, and the terrible, soft-speaking, eyeless man took hold of it like a dog biting a bone. He pulled me violently towards him.
‘Now, boy,’ he said, ‘take me to the captain or I’ll break your arm! ’And I had never heard a voice so cruel and cold.
I was so frightened by the blind man’s violence that I obeyed him without question, and took him into the room where the sick captain was sitting. He saw the blind man and a look of fear passed across his face.
‘Sit where you are, Bill,’ said the blind man. ‘I can’t see, but I can hear a finger move. Hold out your right hand.’
I watched him put something in the captain’s hand. ‘And now that’s done,’ said the blind man, and he quickly went out of the inn. I heard his stick tap-tap-tapping away along the road.
The captain opened his hand and looked into it. ‘Ten o’clock!’ he cried, and jumped up. He put his hand round his neck, made a strange sound, and fell face down on to the floor.
I ran to him, calling to my mother. But the captain was dead.
On the floor close to the captain’s hand was a little round piece of paper, blackened on one side. I had no doubt that this was the black spot. On the other side was some writing: You have till ten o’clock tonight. Our old clock reminded me it was now six.
Quickly, I told my mother everything, and we decided to run to the village to hide, before the blind man and his friends returned.
‘But first,’ my mother said bravely, ‘we have to get the key to the sea-chest. Why shouldn’t we take the money the captain owes us? His friends certainly won’t give it to us!’
The key was around his neck on a piece of string. I cut the string, and we hurried up to his room where the chest had stood since the day he came. There was a letter ‘B’ painted on the top of it. Inside were two very fine pistols, some silver, pipe-tobacco, and an old clock. Underneath these things were some papers tied up inside a cloth, and a bag of gold coins.
‘I’ll show these scoundrels I’m an honest woman,’ said my mother. ‘I’ll take what I’m owed and no more.’ She began counting the money. There were all kinds of gold coins in the bag – big French gold coins, Spanish doubloons and pieces of eight. It was slow work to find the English gold guineas that we needed.
We were half-way through when I heard a sound that filled my heart with fear; the tap-tapping of the blind man’s stick on the frozen road. Then it knocked against the inn door and we did not breathe. But then the tapping started again and slowly died away.
‘Mother,’ I said, ‘take it all, and let’s go before the blind man comes back with his friends.’
But my mother went on counting until we heard a low shout coming from the hill outside. ‘I’ll take what I have,’ she said, jumping to her feet.
‘And I’ll take this for what I’m owed,’ I said, and picked up the cloth of papers.
We ran from the inn and along the road to the village. It was dark but there was a full moon. We heard running feet coming towards us.
‘Take the money and run on,’ my mother said breathlessly. But I refused to leave her. Quickly, I pulled her off the road and down under a small bridge. There we hid, trembling.