"Ah, well," said he, "but I had--remarkable pious. And I was a civil,
pious boy, and could rattle off my catechism that fast as you couldn't
tell one word from another. And here's what it come to, Jim, and it
begun with chuck-farthen on the blessed gravestones! That's what it
begun with, but it went further'n that, and so my mother told me, and
predicked the whole, she did, the pious woman. But it were Providence
that put me here. I've thought it all out in this here lonely island and
I'm back on piety. You can't catch me tasting rum so much, but just a
thimbleful for luck, of course, the first chance I have. I'm bound I'll
be good, and I see the way to. And, Jim"--looking all round him and
lowering his voice to a whisper--"I'm rich."
I now felt sure that the poor fellow had gone crazy in his solitude, and
I suppose I must have shown the feeling in my face, for he repeated the
statement hotly:
"Rich! rich! I says. And I'll tell you what, I'll make a man of you,
Jim. Ah, Jim, you'll bless your stars, you will, you was the first that
found me!"
And at this there came suddenly a lowering shadow over his face and he
tightened his grasp upon my hand and raised a forefinger threateningly
before my eyes.
"Now, Jim, you tell me true; that ain't Flint's ship?" he asked.
At this I had a happy inspiration. I began to believe that I had found
an ally and I answered him at once.
"It's not Flint's ship and Flint is dead, but I'll tell you true, as
you ask me--there are some of Flint's hands aboard; worse luck for the
rest of us."
"Not a man--with one--leg?" he gasped.
"Silver?" I asked.
"Ah, Silver!" says he, "that were his name."
"He's the cook, and the ringleader, too."
He was still holding me by the wrist, and at that he gave it quite a
wring. "If you was sent by Long John," he said, "I'm as good as pork and
I know it. But where was you, do you suppose?"
I had made my mind up in a moment, and by way of answer told him the
whole story of our voyage and the predicament in which we found
ourselves. He heard me with the keenest interest, and when I had done he
patted me on the head.
"You're a good lad, Jim," he said, "and you're all in a clove hitch,
ain't you? Well, you just put your trust in Ben Gunn--Ben Gunn's the man
to do it. Would you think it likely, now, that your squire would prove a
liberal-minded one in case of help--him being in a clove hitch, as you
remark?"
I told him the squire was the most liberal of men.
"Ay, but you see," returned Ben Gunn, "I didn't mean giving me a gate to
keep and a suit of livery clothes, and such; that's not my mark, Jim.
What I mean is, would he be likely to come down to the toon of, say one
thousand pounds out of money that's as good as a man's own already?"
"I am sure he would," said I. "As it was, all hands were to share."
"_And_ a passage home?" he added, with a look of great shrewdness.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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