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    Treasure Island: with original illustrations by Louis Rhead
    Treasure Island: with original illustrations by Louis Rhead
    Treasure Island: with original illustrations by Louis Rhead
    Ebook312 pages5 hours

    Treasure Island: with original illustrations by Louis Rhead

    By Robert Louis Stevenson and Louis Rhead

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    About this ebook

    TREASURE ISLAND is an adventure novel by Scottish author Robert Louis Stevenson, narrating a tale of "buccaneers and buried gold". It was originally serialized in the children's magazine Young Folks between 1881 through 1882 under the title Treasure Island, or the mutiny of the Hispaniola, credited to the pseudonym "Captain George North". It was first published as a book on 14 November 1883 by Cassell & Co.

    Treasure Island is traditionally considered a coming-of-age story, and is noted for its atmosphere, characters, and action. It is also noted as a wry commentary on the ambiguity of morality-as seen in Long John Silver-unusual for children's literature. It is one of the most frequently dramatized of all novels. Its influence is enormous on popular perceptions of pirates, including such elements as treasure maps marked with an "X", schooners, the Black Spot, tropical islands, and one-legged seamen bearing parrots on their shoulders.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherWisehouse Classics
    Release dateDec 23, 2019
    ISBN9789176371695
    Treasure Island: with original illustrations by Louis Rhead
    Author

    Robert Louis Stevenson

    Poet and novelist Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894) was the author of a number of classic books for young readers, including Treasure Island , Kidnapped, and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Born in Edinburgh, Scotland, Mr. Stevenson was often ill as a child and spent much of his youth confined to his nursery, where he first began to compose stories even before he could read, and where he was cared for by his nanny, Alison Cunningham, to whom A Child's Garden of Verses is dedicated.

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    Reviews for Treasure Island

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    • 5/5
      The book that gave us our mythical idea of pirates. Such a great story! One of the best novels I have ever read!
    • 5/5
      This book contains everything you could expect from a story like this. Although this is one of the well-known classics, I had not read it yet. I am very happy that I have done so now.

      The story follows Jim Hawkins who lives with his mother in the "Admiral Benbow" inn in a seaside town. When pirate Bill, who is a client at the inn, leaves a treasure map after his death, Jim sets off on an adventure to find the treasure. It is written in short chapters and after each chapter you want to know what Stevenson has in store for Hawkins and co. Because of the interesting story and the short chapters I read this fairly quickly.

      If you have not yet become acquainted with this classic, it is highly recommended.



    • 5/5
      Fun and wonderfully told adventure story. It’s amazing how much of piracy in pop culture owes to Robert Louis Stevenson.
    • 5/5
      So there I was, drifting in Pandemic Land, wondering what to read next, when the soft dulcet voice of Lou Reed drifted into my sullen consciousness: "I wish that I'd sailed the darkened seasOn a great big clipper shipGoing from this land here to thatOn a sailor's suit and cap..." And, then, right after that, this early Dylan lyric came crashing through the Pandemic Mayhem: "Haul on the bowline, we sang that melody...like all tough sailors do, when they're far away at sea!" In a moment, the die was cast. I knew that the next book I would read, or reread rather, would be Treasure Island, one that I read some, what, forty years ago, as a mere child? It was a great idea! What a treat! What pleasure! And the fact that the back cover said, "For children, aged 10-14," discouraged me not a whit! To make matters even better, it so happened that my edition was a facsimile of a 1911 one, illustrated by one NC Wyeth, the father of the very Andrew (Mansplain Alert!), who painted Christina's World (and not to forget the voluptuous Helga). But I digress. This adventure story was an unalloyed delight, a story of intrigue, treachery, courage, and a cast of characters right out of the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disneyland! I can say no more save this: English literature is awash (as we pirates say) with secondary characters of the highest order: Holmes' Dr Watson, Dickens Madame Defarge, King Arthur's Merlin, Alice's Cheshire Cat, and so on...so allow me to introduce another one, the charismatic Long John Silver, the humble, affable ship's cook in this gripping yarn...or was he only a cook? Read it to find out!
    • 3/5
      I just really had trouble getting into this. The characters were so two-dimensional and the "action" went from a lot of talking to a lot of killing and back to a lot of talking. Not my cuppa Joe.
    • 4/5
      When an old seaman named Billy Bones comes to stay at the Admiral Benbow Inn run by Jim Hawkins and his parents, the young English boy finds himself unexpectedly caught up in an exciting adventure involving pirates and hidden treasure. Enlisted in the local squire's quest to find the treasure buried on the eponymous Treasure Island, Jim becomes a cabin boy on the voyage out, encountering treachery and dangers he did not anticipate...Like many children's classics of the late 19th and early 20th centuries, Treasure Island was first published serially, in the Young Folks magazine, before being released in book form in 1883. An instant success, it has remained immensely popular ever since, published in innumerable editions, and frequently adapted for stage, film and television. Somehow, despite being well aware of it since childhood, I had never picked it up, until it was assigned as one of our texts in a class I took during the course of my masters. I'm so happy that I finally did get to it, as I found it immensely engrossing and entertaining. Atmospheric, exciting, it immediately grabs hold of the reader, and takes them along on an extraordinary adventure. The themes here are fascinating, and led me to include the book in a paper I wrote on the island as an example of the 'lapsed topos,' as envisioned by Jane Suzanne Carroll, in her Landscape in Children's Literature. Recommended to all readers who enjoy adventure stories, or who love tales of seafaring and pirates.
    • 5/5
      A re-read of a favorite from my childhood. It held up beautifully and filled me with nostalgia.
    • 5/5
      A classic story. The determination of the characters is well done. If you have not read it....the chances are Earth is a very distant place for you.
    • 4/5
      Stevenson’s taut and fast-paced adventure still entertains. From this stirring tale originates much of the language and icons of pirates we know so well: old sea-dogs, grog, pieces of eight, parrots, sea chests. Young Jim Hawkins, a mere lad, is both repelled and invigorated by the rugged old seamen of fortune, bent on treasure or vengeance, and their blundering misadventures in the Caribbean. Should the narrative briefly slacken, Jim takes on some reckless or daring initiative to move it on. Long John Silver, the arch villain, is also somehow the star of the show, bristling with charisma and cunning. Characters and motives sometimes blur, but the story’s energy and spirit prevail. Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!
    • 4/5
      Rollicking adventure tale - great fun and now I know more about the allusions in Arthur Ransome's novels.
    • 5/5
      A smashing adventure. Everything you could want, pirates, treasure, betrayal and tropical islands.
    • 4/5
      It's slow starting, but once I got to about the middle of the book, I couldn't put it down. It's pretty much a straight-up adventure novel, with action and pirates and everything you could ever want, really.
    • 1/5

      Five out of ten.

      Stevenson's novel is narrated by the teenage Jim Hawkins, who outwits a gang of murderous pirates led by that unforgettable avatar of amorality, Long John Silver.

    • 1/5
      I listened to the audio and read the book. It never got any better. My eyes went over the words but I do not know what really happens in the book. I used wikipedia to try and separate the characters but there were just too many. The only thing I really remember is about the apple barrell.
      But I gave it all I had.
    • 5/5
      It's Adventure, with capital A.If you didn't read it, you didn't have a happy childhood.
    • 4/5
      Very enjoyable as an audiobook. The reader does a fantastic job with the voices and the emotion.
    • 5/5
      Read it before and I'm sure I will read it again. Timeless classic with a great story, hope to read it to my son someday to show him there were pirates before Johnny Depp.
    • 4/5
      I found this to be a more complex book then I thought it would be. while it is on its surface a coming of age and adventure story there is much more then that. the character long john silver is very complex. I am glad I read it
    • 5/5
      A very great classic, and no one needs me to inform them of this fact. Of the many, many pleasures this book holds in store, let me just mention the riveting chapter on Israel Hands, a character based on the real-life second in command to Blackbeard himself, whose creepy conversation, struggle with , and pursuit of Jim Hawkins ends with a deadly encounter on the mizzen-mast. Even now, many years later, I recall my own instinctive recoil and shudder as the knife found its home.
    • 3/5
      A nice adventure book...one I cannot believe I haven't read before!! Long John Silver was well developed and very well balanced, and I am a sucker for an antagonist with a heart!The characters, though not fleshed out or fully developed, are enticing and realistic. This is, by far, a pure adventure story, though the adventure is slow in rolling itself out. The simple suspense is delightful, and the justice dispensed to those of blacker hearts seems reasonable and natural. Long John Silver's disappearance at the end definitely leaves a wide window for future legends, ideas and adventures to form themselves.
    • 5/5
      this book is awsome its about a boy named jim his dad dies at the resterant his mom and dad own and affter hes gone a while in the book some pirates come and kidnap jim well thats all i can say but this is an awsome book about adventure
    • 5/5
      I love the way the sea cook is introduced!
    • 4/5
      Stevenson is an all-time classic author, and this book is rightfully held in the front rank of the Stevenson canon. It is often cited as a classic of young adult literature, and it clearly works as such, superbly so. But I would like to cite Mr. Stevenson's sophisticated and subtle portayal of his characters. The motivations are shaded, knowing, understandable, and realistic. We have the evolving, by turns treacherous and ingratiating, journey of Long John Silver. We have the captain of the vessel, and while not as subtle a character, certainly has his depths. And of course, the classic first-person Jim Hawkins, whose courage and resourcefulness are really the entree to this delicious meal.There are some works which seem to carry all in the genre after it. This is one of those. In the words of Jorge Luis Borges: "I like antique maps, 18th-century type styles, the origins of words, the smell of coffee, and the prose of Stevenson." Amen.
    • 3/5
      Not being at all well-read in the classics, I honestly didn't know any of the basics of this story. This 1-disc edition is certainly very abridged, but I thought that would be a good way for me to get a quick overview of this story. But I felt this was TOO abridged. The reader read quickly & I had a lot of trouble keeping track of the characters, let alone the storyline as to who the good guys & the bad guys were. It was very confusing for someone as ignorant as I was in respect to what was really happening in the story. I just felt like I didn't follow things very well due to how fast it zipped along. For someone who's read the book previously, I think this would probably be a good refresher. However, for those who haven't, you'd probably be better off going with the original unedited text.
    • 2/5
      This book starts off with a young boy named jim hawkins who starts off helping a pirate at his family's inn. the pirate he is supposed to help belonged to a pirate crew commanded by a notorious captain named flint. The pirate jim hawkins was taking care of was named Billy Bones. one night, a pirate from flint's crew called pew had come to give billy the news that he was going to die that night. soon after billy dies ,but told jim that they were after a treasure map that he had in his treasure chest. jim and his mom retreaive the map, and jim sets off to follow where the treasure is with john trelawny,dr.livesey,long john silvers, and other men. silvers makes a plan to steal the treasure once ashore the island and runs with it with two other men. the rest of the crew finds out and is at war with silvers team. The rest remains an ending suprise :) I liked that i could understand the book but i did not like the story because it's basically a complex pirate story and is very common too.
    • 4/5
      I read the "Jr." version of this as a kid and enjoyed it again as a 40 year old... I'm looking forward to reading this, a chapter a night, to my son & daughter when they're a little older.
    • 5/5
      This is the first time I've read this book and I loved it. I had to do a lot of looking up of nautical terms to get a picture in my head of what was going on, but the story is gripping and well told. I'm also a fan of colorful dialogue and this is a great one for that. (It's also the obvious inspiration for all stereotypical pirate lingo still used today.) And I also wouldn't call this "Juvenile Fiction." Most kids today wouldn't understand a word of it...and you may lay to it!
    • 3/5
      Pleasantly surprised by this novel. Thought it was a kids story, but it can get pretty dark in places. Although it has dated, still worth a read.
    • 3/5
      I reread this book at the beginning of this summer, right when the third Pirates movie was coming out. Not only that, but I read it while on vacation at a friend's lakehouse. Needless to say, I spent the entire weekend pretending I was a pirate in my own head. I forgot how much I really do love this book. Even before the Pirates of the Caribbean craze, I've always been partial to pirates - mostly because of this book. I think that since the main character is a young boy, it was easy for me to build a fantasy world to myself using the events in this novel. I spent many a long day, hiding out in the woods pretending to hide from the evil pirates.Overall, a fantastic children's novel. Lush scenery and, despite the cliche, characters that practically leap from the page.
    • 5/5
      Well, clearly it"s rollicking, and this time around I both really enjoyed Treasure Island (mini-barrage of sea books since I"ve been in landlocked Austria) and got a bit of clarity on whey I never enjoyed it quite as much as I wanted or expected to (I did love it, but never quite quite enough for my dad, who read it to me when he was crazy busy with the paper and basically saw it as the end- and be-all of boy"s own adventure stories, bar none. Come to think of it that probably does a lot to inform the way he feelz out in the boat nowdays). It"s the beginning! Stevenson seemed to be worried the kids wouldn"t relate, to judge by the intro to this edition, and so he set it out for them REALLY painstakingly - "Here"s a PLAUSIBLE way a kid JUST LIKE YOU could actually have a real pirate adventure. Watch as I lead you through the steps from your workaday farm life." Annoying! And of course, these days, unnecessary - generations raised on astronaut dreams have no trouble expanding their horizons to imagine going to see. Other than that, wonderful, wonderful, and I found Silver a lot more ambiguous and compelling and Ben Gunn a little more cheesy than I did when I was seven.

    Book preview

    Treasure Island - Robert Louis Stevenson

    TO THE HESITATING PURCHASER

    If sailor tales to sailor tunes,

    Storm and adventure, heat and cold,

    If schooners, islands, and maroons,

    And buccaneers, and buried gold,

    And all the old romance, retold

    Exactly in the ancient way,

    Can please, as me they pleased of old,

    The wiser youngsters of today:

    — So be it, and fall on! If not,

    If studious youth no longer crave,

    His ancient appetites forgot,

    Kingston, or Ballantyne the brave,

    Or Cooper of the wood and wave:

    So be it, also! And may I

    And all my pirates share the grave

    Where these and their creations lie!

    Part One

    The Old Buccaneer

    1

    THE OLD SEA-DOG AT THE ADMIRAL BENBOW

    SQIRE TRELAWNEY, DR. LIVESEY, AND THE REST OF THESE GENTLEMEN HAVING asked me to write down the whole particulars about Treasure Island, from the beginning to the end, keeping nothing back but the bearings of the island, and that only because there is still treasure not yet lifted, I take up my pen in the year of grace 17_ and go back to the time when my father kept the Admiral Benbow inn and the brown old seaman with the sabre cut first took up his lodging under our roof.

    I remember him as if it were yesterday, as he came plodding to the inn door, his sea-chest following behind him in a hand-barrow—a tall, strong, heavy, nut-brown man, his tarry pigtail falling over the shoulder of his soiled blue coat, his hands ragged and scarred, with black, broken nails, and the sabre cut across one cheek, a dirty, livid white. I remember him looking round the cover and whistling to himself as he did so, and then breaking out in that old sea-song that he sang so often afterwards:

    "Fifteen men on the Dead Man’s Chest —

    Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!"

    in the high, old tottering voice that seemed to have been tuned and broken at the capstan bars. Then he rapped on the door with a bit of stick like a handspike that he carried, and when my father appeared, called roughly for a glass of rum. This, when it was brought to him, he drank slowly, like a connoisseur, lingering on the taste and still looking about him at the cliffs and up at our signboard.

    This is a handy cove, says he at length; and a pleasant sittyated grog-shop. Much company, mate?

    My father told him no, very little company, the more was the pity.

    Well, then, said he, this is the berth for me. Here you, matey, he cried to the man who trundled the barrow; bring up alongside and help up my chest. I’ll stay here a bit, he continued. I’m a plain man; rum and bacon and eggs is what I want, and that head up there for to watch ships off. What you mought call me? You mought call me captain. Oh, I see what you’re at—there; and he threw down three or four gold pieces on the threshold. You can tell me when I’ve worked through that, says he, looking as fierce as a commander.

    And indeed bad as his clothes were and coarsely as he spoke, he had none of the appearance of a man who sailed before the mast, but seemed like a mate or skipper accustomed to be obeyed or to strike. The man who came with the barrow told us the mail had set him down the morning before at the Royal George, that he had inquired what inns there were along the coast, and hearing ours well spoken of, I suppose, and described as lonely, had chosen it from the others for his place of residence. And that was all we could learn of our guest.

    He was a very silent man by custom. All day he hung round the cove or upon the cliffs with a brass telescope; all evening he sat in a corner of the parlour next the fire and drank rum and water very strong. Mostly he would not speak when spoken to, only look up sudden and fierce and blow through his nose like a fog-horn; and we and the people who came about our house soon learned to let him be. Every day when he came back from his stroll he would ask if any seafaring men had gone by along the road. At first we thought it was the want of company of his own kind that made him ask this question, but at last we began to see he was desirous to avoid them. When a seaman did put up at the Admiral Benbow (as now and then some did, making by the coast road for Bristol) he would look in at him through the curtained door before he entered the parlour; and he was always sure to be as silent as a mouse when any such was present. For me, at least, there was no secret about the matter, for I was, in a way, a sharer in his alarms. He had taken me aside one day and promised me a silver fourpenny on the first of every month if I would only keep my weather-eye open for a seafaring man with one leg and let him know the moment he appeared. Often enough when the first of the month came round and I applied to him for my wage, he would only blow through his nose at me and stare me down, but before the week was out he was sure to think better of it, bring me my four-penny piece, and repeat his orders to look out for the seafaring man with one leg.

    How that personage haunted my dreams, I need scarcely tell you. On stormy nights, when the wind shook the four corners of the house and the surf roared along the cove and up the cliffs, I would see him in a thousand forms, and with a thousand diabolical expressions. Now the leg would be cut off at the knee, now at the hip; now he was a monstrous kind of a creature who had never had but the one leg, and that in the middle of his body. To see him leap and run and pursue me over hedge and ditch was the worst of nightmares. And altogether I paid pretty dear for my monthly fourpenny piece, in the shape of these abominable fancies.

    But though I was so terrified by the idea of the seafaring man with one leg, I was far less afraid of the captain himself than anybody else who knew him. There were nights when he took a deal more rum and water than his head would carry; and then he would sometimes sit and sing his wicked, old, wild sea-songs, minding nobody; but sometimes he would call for glasses round and force all the trembling company to listen to his stories or bear a chorus to his singing. Often I have heard the house shaking with Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum, all the neighbours joining in for dear life, with the fear of death upon them, and each singing louder than the other to avoid remark. For in these fits he was the most overriding companion ever known; he would slap his hand on the table for silence all round; he would fly up in a passion of anger at a question, or sometimes because none was put, and so he judged the company was not following his story. Nor would he allow anyone to leave the inn till he had drunk himself sleepy and reeled off to bed.

    His stories were what frightened people worst of all. Dreadful stories they were— about hanging, and walking the plank, and storms at sea, and the Dry Tortugas, and wild deeds and places on the Spanish Main. By his own account he must have lived his life among some of the wickedest men that God ever allowed upon the sea, and the language in which he told these stories shocked our plain country people almost as much as the crimes that he described. My father was always saying the inn would be ruined, for people would soon cease coming there to be tyrannized over and put down, and sent shivering to their beds; but I really believe his presence did us good. People were frightened at the time, but on looking back they rather liked it; it was a fine excitement in a quiet country life, and there was even a party of the younger men who pretended to admire him, calling him a true sea-dog and a real old salt and such like names, and saying there was the sort of man that made England terrible at sea.

    In one way, indeed, he bade fair to ruin us, for he kept on staying week after week, and at last month after month, so that all the money had been long exhausted, and still my father never plucked up the heart to insist on having more. If ever he mentioned it, the captain blew through his nose so loudly that you might say he roared, and stared my poor father out of the room. I have seen him wringing his hands after such a rebuff, and I am sure the annoyance and the terror he lived in must have greatly hastened his early and unhappy death.

    All the time he lived with us the captain made no change whatever in his dress but to buy some stockings from a hawker. One of the cocks of his hat having fallen down, he let it hang from that day forth, though it was a great annoyance when it blew. I remember the appearance of his coat, which he patched himself upstairs in his room, and which, before the end, was nothing but patches. He never wrote or received a letter, and he never spoke with any but the neighbours, and with these, for the most part, only when drunk on rum. The great sea-chest none of us had ever seen open.

    He was only once crossed, and that was towards the end, when my poor father was far gone in a decline that took him off. Dr. Livesey came late one afternoon to see the patient, took a bit of dinner from my mother, and went into the parlour to smoke a pipe until his horse should come down from the hamlet, for we had no stabling at the old Benbow. I followed him in, and I remember observing the contrast the neat, bright doctor, with his powder as white as snow and his bright, black eyes and pleasant manners, made with the coltish country folk, and above all, with that filthy, heavy, bleared scarecrow of a pirate of ours, sitting, far gone in rum, with his arms on the table. Suddenly he—the captain, that is—began to pipe up his eternal song:

    "Fifteen men on the Dead Man’s Chest —

    Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!

    Drink and the devil had done for the rest —

    Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!"

    At first I had supposed the dead man’s chest to be that identical big box of his upstairs in the front room, and the thought had been mingled in my nightmares with that of the one-legged seafaring man. But by this time we had all long ceased to pay any particular notice to the song; it was new, that night, to nobody but Dr. Livesey, and on him I observed it did not produce an agreeable effect, for he looked up for a moment quite angrily before he went on with his talk to old Taylor, the gardener, on a new cure for the rheumatics. In the meantime, the captain gradually brightened up at his own music, and at last flapped his hand upon the table before him in a way we all knew to mean silence. The voices stopped at once, all but Dr. Livesey’s; he went on as before speaking clear and kind and drawing briskly at his pipe between every word or two. The captain glared at him for a while, flapped his hand again, glared still harder, and at last broke out with a villainous, low oath, Silence, there, between decks!

    Were you addressing me, sir? says the doctor; and when the ruffian had told him, with another oath, that this was so, I have only one thing to say to you, sir, replies the doctor, that if you keep on drinking rum, the world will soon be quit of a very dirty scoundrel!

    The old fellow’s fury was awful. He sprang to his feet, drew and opened a sailor’s clasp-knife, and balancing it open on the palm of his hand, threatened to pin the doctor to the wall.

    If you do not put that knife this instant in your pocket, you shall hang at the next assizes

    The doctor never so much as moved. He spoke to him as before, over his shoulder and in the same tone of voice, rather high, so that all the room might hear, but perfectly calm and steady: If you do not put that knife this instant in your pocket, I promise, upon my honour, you shall hang at the next assizes.

    Then followed a battle of looks between them, but the captain soon knuckled under, put up his weapon, and resumed his seat, grumbling like a beaten dog.

    And now, sir, continued the doctor, since I now know there’s such a fellow in my district, you may count I’ll have an eye upon you day and night. I’m not a doctor only; I’m a magistrate; and if I catch a breath of complaint against you, if it’s only for a piece of incivility like tonight’s, I’ll take effectual means to have you hunted down and routed out of this. Let that suffice.

    Soon after, Dr. Livesey’s horse came to the door and he rode away, but the captain held his peace that evening, and for many evenings to come.

    ,

    2

    BLACK DOG APPEARS AND DISAPPEARS

    IT WAS NOT VERY LONG AFTER THIS THAT THERE OCCURRED THE FIRST OF THE mysterious events that rid us at last of the captain, though not, as you will see, of his affairs. It was a bitter cold winter, with long, hard frosts and heavy gales; and it was plain from the first that my poor father was little likely to see the spring. He sank daily, and my mother and I had all the inn upon our hands, and were kept busy enough without paying much regard to our unpleasant guest.

    It was one January morning, very early—a pinching, frosty morning—the cove all grey with hoar-frost, the ripple lapping softly on the stones, the sun still low and only touching the hilltops and shining far to seaward. The captain had risen earlier than usual and set out down the beach, his cutlass swinging under the broad skirts of the old blue coat, his brass telescope under his arm, his hat tilted back upon his head. I remember his breath hanging like smoke in his wake as he strode off, and the last sound I heard of him as he turned the big rock was a loud snort of indignation, as though his mind was still running upon Dr. Livesey.

    Well, mother was upstairs with father and I was laying the breakfast-table against the captain’s return when the parlour door opened and a man stepped in on whom I had never set my eyes before. He was a pale, tallowy creature, wanting two fingers of the left hand, and though he wore a cutlass, he did not look much like a fighter. I had always my eye open for seafaring men, with one leg or two, and I remember this one puzzled me. He was not sailorly, and yet he had a smack of the sea about him too.

    I asked him what was for his service, and he said he would take rum; but as I was going out of the room to fetch it, he sat down upon a table and motioned me to draw near. I paused where I was, with my napkin in my hand.

    Come here, sonny, says he. Come nearer here.

    I took a step nearer.

    Is this here table for my mate Bill? he asked with a kind of leer.

    I told him I did not know his mate Bill, and this was for a person who stayed in our house whom we called the captain.

    Well, said he, my mate Bill would be called the captain, as like as not. He has a cut on one cheek and a mighty pleasant way with him, particularly in drink, has my mate Bill. We’ll put it, for argument like, that your captain has a cut on one cheek— and we’ll put it, if you like, that that cheek’s the right one. Ah, well! I told you. Now, is my mate Bill in this here house?

    I told him he was out walking.

    Which way, sonny? Which way is he gone?

    And when I had pointed out the rock and told him how the captain was likely to return, and how soon, and answered a few other questions, Ah, said he, this’ll be as good as drink to my mate Bill.

    The expression of his face as he said these words was not at all pleasant, and I had my own reasons for thinking that the stranger was mistaken, even supposing he meant what he said. But it was no affair of mine, I thought; and besides, it was difficult to know what to do. The stranger kept hanging about just inside the inn door, peering round the corner like a cat waiting for a mouse. Once I stepped out myself into the road, but he immediately called me back, and as I did not obey quick enough for his fancy, a most horrible change came over his tallowy face, and he ordered me in with an oath that made me jump. As soon as I was back again he returned to his former manner, half fawning, half sneering, patted me on the shoulder, told me I was a good boy and he had taken quite a fancy to me. I have a son of my own, said he, as like you as two blocks, and he’s all the pride of my ’art. But the great thing for boys is discipline, sonny—discipline. Now, if you had sailed along of Bill, you wouldn’t have stood there to be spoke to twice—not you. That was never Bill’s way, nor the way of sich as sailed with him. And here, sure enough, is my mate Bill, with a spy-glass under his arm, bless his old ’art, to be sure. You and me’ll just go back into the parlour, sonny, and get behind the door, and we’ll give Bill a little surprise—bless his ’art, I say again.

    So saying, the stranger backed along with me into the parlour and put me behind him in the corner so that we were both hidden by the open door. I was very uneasy and alarmed, as you may fancy, and it rather added to my fears to observe that the stranger was certainly frightened himself. He cleared the hilt of his cutlass and loosened the blade in the sheath; and all the time we were waiting there he kept swallowing as if he felt what we used to call a lump in the throat.

    At last in strode the captain, slammed the door behind him, without looking to the right or left, and marched straight across the room to where his breakfast awaited him.

    Bill, said the stranger in a voice that I thought he had tried to make bold and big.

    The captain spun round on his heel and fronted us; all the brown had gone out of his face, and even his nose was blue; he had the look of a man who sees a ghost, or the evil one, or something worse, if anything can be; and upon my word, I felt sorry to see him all in a moment turn so old and sick.

    Come, Bill, you know me; you know an old shipmate, Bill, surely, said the stranger.

    The captain made a sort of gasp.

    Black Dog! said he.

    And who else? returned the other, getting more at his ease. "Black Dog as ever was, come for to see his old shipmate Billy, at the Admiral Benbow inn. Ah, Bill, Bill, we have seen a sight of times, us

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