The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 06Stevenson, Robert Louis
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The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 06
Stevenson, Robert Louis
English literature -- 19th century
"By the powers, Tom Morgan, it's as good for you!" exclaimed the
landlord. "If you had been mixed up with the like of that, you would
never have put another foot in my house, you may lay to that. And what
was he saying to you?"
"I don't rightly know, sir," answered Morgan.
"Do you call that a head on your shoulders, or a blessed dead-eye?" cried
Long John. "Don't rightly know, don't you! Perhaps you don't happen to
rightly know who you was speaking to, perhaps? Come now, what was he
jawing--v'yages, cap'ns, ships? Pipe up! What was it?"
"We was a-talkin' of keel-hauling," answered Morgan.
"Keel-hauling, was you? and a mighty suitable thing, too, and you may lay
to that. Get back to your place for a lubber, Tom."
And then, as Morgan rolled back to his seat, Silver added to me in a
confidential whisper, that was very flattering, as I thought:--
"He's quite an honest man, Tom Morgan, on'y stupid. And now," he ran on
again, aloud, "let's see--Black Dog? No, I don't know the name, not I.
Yet I kind of think I've--yes, I've seen the swab. He used to come here
with a blind beggar, he used."
"That he did, you may be sure," said I. "I knew that blind man, too. His
name was Pew."
"It was!" cried Silver, now quite excited. "Pew! That were his name for
certain. Ah, he looked a shark, he did! If we run down this Black Dog,
now, there'll be news for Cap'n Trelawney! Ben's a good runner; few
seamen run better than Ben. He should run him down, hand over hand, by
the powers! He talked o' keel-hauling, did he? _I'll_ keel-haul him!"
All the time he was jerking out these phrases he was stumping up and down
the tavern on his crutch, slapping tables with his hand, and giving such
a show of excitement as would have convinced an Old Bailey judge or a Bow
Street runner. My suspicions had been thoroughly reawakened on finding
Black Dog at the "Spy-glass," and I watched the cook narrowly. But he was
too deep, and too ready, and too clever for me, and by the time the two
men had come back out of breath, and confessed that they had lost the
track in a crowd, and been scolded like thieves, I would have gone bail
for the innocence of Long John Silver.
"See here, now, Hawkins," said he, "here's a blessed hard thing on a man
like me, now, ain't it? There's Cap'n Trelawney--what's he to think? Here
I have this confounded son of a Dutchman sitting in my own house,
drinking of my own rum! Here you comes and tells me of it plain; and here
I let him give us all the slip before my blessed dead-lights! Now,
Hawkins, you do me justice with the cap'n. You're a lad, you are, but
you're as smart as paint. I see that when you first came in. Now, here it
is: What could I do, with this old timber I hobble on? When I was an A B
master mariner I'd have come up alongside of him, hand over hand, and
broached him to in a brace of old shakes, I would; but now----"
And then, all of a sudden, he stopped, and his jaw dropped as though he
had remembered something.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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