“Very good,” said the captain. “Now you’ll hear me. If you’ll come up
one by one, unarmed, I’ll engage to clap you all in irons and take you
home to a fair trial in England. If you won’t, my name is Alexander
Smollett, I’ve flown my sovereign’s colours, and I’ll see you all
to Davy Jones. You can’t find the treasure. You can’t sail the
ship--there’s not a man among you fit to sail the ship. You can’t fight
us--Gray, there, got away from five of you. Your ship’s in irons, Master
Silver; you’re on a lee shore, and so you’ll find. I stand here and tell
you so; and they’re the last good words you’ll get from me, for in the
name of heaven, I’ll put a bullet in your back when next I meet you.
Tramp, my lad. Bundle out of this, please, hand over hand, and double
quick.”
Silver’s face was a picture; his eyes started in his head with wrath. He
shook the fire out of his pipe.
“Give me a hand up!” he cried.
“Not I,” returned the captain.
“Who’ll give me a hand up?” he roared.
Not a man among us moved. Growling the foulest imprecations, he crawled
along the sand till he got hold of the porch and could hoist himself
again upon his crutch. Then he spat into the spring.
“There!” he cried. “That’s what I think of ye. Before an hour’s out,
I’ll stove in your old block house like a rum puncheon. Laugh, by
thunder, laugh! Before an hour’s out, ye’ll laugh upon the other side.
Them that die’ll be the lucky ones.”
And with a dreadful oath he stumbled off, ploughed down the sand, was
helped across the stockade, after four or five failures, by the man with
the flag of truce, and disappeared in an instant afterwards among the
trees.
XXI
The Attack
As soon as Silver disappeared, the captain, who had been closely
watching him, turned towards the interior of the house and found not a
man of us at his post but Gray. It was the first time we had ever seen
him angry.
“Quarters!” he roared. And then, as we all slunk back to our places,
“Gray,” he said, “I’ll put your name in the log; you’ve stood by your
duty like a seaman. Mr. Trelawney, I’m surprised at you, sir. Doctor,
I thought you had worn the king’s coat! If that was how you served at
Fontenoy, sir, you’d have been better in your berth.”
The doctor’s watch were all back at their loopholes, the rest were busy
loading the spare muskets, and everyone with a red face, you may be
certain, and a flea in his ear, as the saying is.
The captain looked on for a while in silence. Then he spoke.
“My lads,” said he, “I’ve given Silver a broadside. I pitched it in
red-hot on purpose; and before the hour’s out, as he said, we shall be
boarded. We’re outnumbered, I needn’t tell you that, but we fight in
shelter; and a minute ago I should have said we fought with discipline.
I’ve no manner of doubt that we can drub them, if you choose.”
Then he went the rounds and saw, as he said, that all was clear.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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