"Now, you see, Jim, so be as you _are_ here," says he, "I'll give you a
piece of my mind. I've always liked you, I have, for a lad of spirit,
and the picter of my own self when I was young and handsome. I always
wanted you to jine and take your share, and die a gentleman, and now, my
cock, you've got to. Cap'n Smollett's a fine seaman, as I'll own up to
any day, but stiff on discipline. 'Dooty is dooty,' says he, and right
he is. Just you keep clear of the cap'n. The doctor himself is gone dead
again you--'ungrateful scamp' was what he said; and the short and long
of the whole story is about here: You can't go back to your own lot, for
they won't have you; and, without you start a third ship's company all
by yourself, which might be lonely, you'll have to jine with Cap'n
Silver."
So far so good. My friends, then, were still alive, and though I partly
believed the truth of Silver's statement, that the cabin party were
incensed at me for my desertion, I was more relieved than distressed by
what I heard.
"I don't say nothing as to your being in our hands," continued Silver,
"though there you are, and you may lay to it. I'm all for argyment; I
never seen good come out o' threatening. If you like the service, well,
you'll jine; and if you don't, Jim, why, you're free to answer no--free
and welcome, shipmate; and if fairer can be said by mortal seaman,
shiver my sides!"
"Am I to answer, then?" I asked, with a very tremulous voice. Through
all this sneering talk I was made to feel the threat of death that
overhung me, and my cheeks burned and my heart beat painfully in my
breast.
"Lad," said Silver, "no one's a-pressing of you. Take your bearings.
None of us won't hurry you, mate; time goes so pleasant in your company,
you see."
"Well," says I, growing a bit bolder, "if I'm to choose, I declare I
have a right to know what's what, and why you're here, and where my
friends are."
"Wot's wot?" repeated one of the buccaneers, in a deep growl. "Ah, he'd
be a lucky one as knowed that!"
"You'll, perhaps, batten down your hatches till you're spoke to, my
friend," cried Silver, truculently, to this speaker. And then, in his
first gracious tones, he replied to me: "Yesterday morning, Mr.
Hawkins," said he, "in the dogwatch, down came Doctor Livesey with a
flag of truce. Says he: 'Cap'n Silver, you're sold out. Ship's gone!'
Well, maybe we'd been taking a glass, and a song to help it round. I
won't say no. Leastways, none of us had looked out. We looked out, and,
by thunder! the old ship was gone. I never seen a pack o' fools look
fishier; and you may lay to that, if I tells you that I looked the
fishiest. 'Well,' says the doctor, 'let's bargain.' We bargained, him
and I, and here we are; stores, brandy, blockhouse, the firewood you was
thoughtful enough to cut, and, in a manner of speaking, the whole
blessed boat, from crosstrees to keelson. As for them, they've tramped;
I don't know where's they are."
He drew again quietly at his pipe.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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