There was a long pause after this.I stood straight up against the wall,my heart still going like a sledge-hammer,but with a ray of hope now shining in my bosom.Silver leant back against the wall, his arms crossed,his pipe in the corner of his mouth,as calm as though he had been in church;yet his eye kept wandering furtively,and he kept the tail of it on his unruly followers.They, on their part,drew gradually together towards the far end of the block house,and the low hiss of their whispering sounded in my ear continuously,like a stream. One after another, they would look up,and the red light of the torch would fall for a second on their nervous faces;but it was not towards me,it was towards Silver that they turned their eyes.
“You seem to have a lot to say,” remarked Silver,spitting far into the air. “Pipe up and let me hear it, or lay to.”
“Ax your pardon, sir,” returned one of the men;“you’re pretty free with some of the rules;maybe you’ll kindly keep an eye upon the rest.This crew’s dissatisfied;this crew don’t vally bullying a marlin-spike;this crew has its rights like other crews,I’ll make so free as that; and by your own rules,I take it we can talk together. I ax your pardon, sir,acknowledging you for to be capting at this present;but I claim my right, and steps outside for a council.”
And with an elaborate sea-salute, this fellow, a long,ill-looking, yellow-eyed man of five and thirty,stepped coolly towards the door and disappeared out of the house.One after another the rest followed his example,each making a salute as he passed,each adding some apology. “According to rules,” said one. “Forecastle council,” said Morgan.And so with one remark or another all marched out and left Silver and me alone with the torch.
The sea-cook instantly removed his pipe.
“Now, look you here, Jim Hawkins,” he said in a steady whisper that was no more than audible,“you’re within half a plank of death,and what’s a long sight worse, of torture.They’re going to throw me off. But, you mark,I stand by you through thick and thin.I didn’t mean to; no, not till you spoke up.I was about desperate to lose that much blunt,and be hanged into the bargain.But I see you was the right sort. I says to myself,you stand by Hawkins, John,and Hawkins’ll stand by you. You’re his last card,and by the living thunder, John, he’s yours!Back to back, says I. You save your witness,and he’ll save your neck!”
I began dimly to understand.
“You mean all’s lost?” I asked.
“Aye, by gum, I do!” he answered. “Ship gone,neck gone--that’s the size of it.Once I looked into that bay, Jim Hawkins,and seen no schooner--well, I’m tough, but I gave out.As for that lot and their council, mark me,they’re outright fools and cowards.I’ll save your life--if so be as I can--from them. But,see here, Jim--tit for tat--you save Long John from swinging. ”
I was bewildered; it seemed a thing so hopeless he was asking--he,the old buccaneer, the ringleader throughout.
“What I can do, that I’ll do,” I said.
“It’s a bargain!” cried Long John. “You speak up plucky, and by thunder, I’ve a chance!”
He hobbled to the torch,where it stood propped among the firewood,and took a fresh light to his pipe.
“Understand me, Jim,” he said, returning.“I’ve a head on my shoulders, I have.I’m on squire’s side now.I know you’ve got that ship safe somewheres.How you done it, I don’t know, but safe it is.I guess Hands and O’Brien turned soft.I never much believed in neither of THEM.Now you mark me. I ask no questions,nor I won’t let others. I know when a game’s up, I do;and I know a lad that’s staunch. Ah,you that’s young--you and me might have done a power of good together!”
He drew some cognac from the cask into a tin cannikin.
“Will you taste, messmate?” he asked; and when I had refused: “Well,I’ll take a dram myself, Jim,” said he.“I need a caulker, for there’s trouble on hand.And talking o’ trouble,why did that doctor give me the chart, Jim?”
My face expressed a wonder so unaffected that he saw the needlessness of further questions.
“Ah, well, he did, though,” said he.“And there’s something under that, no doubt--something,surely, under that, Jim--bad or good.”
And he took another swallow of the brandy,shaking his great fair head like a man who looks forward to the worst.
XXIX The Black Spot Again
The council of buccaneers had lasted some time,when one of them re-entered the house,and with a repetition of the same salute,which had in my eyes an ironical air,begged for a moment’s loan of the torch.Silver briefly agreed, and this emissary retired again,leaving us together in the dark.
“There’s a breeze coming, Jim,” said Silver,who had by this time adopted quite a friendly and familiar tone.
I turned to the loophole nearest me and looked out.The embers of the great fire had so far burned themselves out and now glowed so low and duskily that I understood why these conspirators desired a torch. About half-way down the slope to the stockade, they were collected in a group; one held the light, another was on his knees in their midst, and I saw the blade of an open knife shine in his hand with varying colours in the moon and torchlight. The rest were all somewhat stooping, as though watching the manoeuvres of this last. I could just make out that he had a book as well as a knife in his hand, and was still wondering how anything so incongruous had come in their possession when the kneeling figure rose once more to his feet and the whole party began to move together towards the house.
“Here they come,” said I;and I returned to my former position,for it seemed beneath my dignity that they should find me watching them.
“Well, let ’em come, lad--let ’em come,” said Silver cheerily. “I’ve still a shot in my locker. ”
The door opened, and the five men,standing huddled together just inside,pushed one of their number forward.In any other circumstances it would have been comical to see his slow advance,hesitating as he set down each foot,but holding his closed right hand in front of him.
“Step up, lad,” cried Silver. “I won’t eat you.Hand it over, lubber. I know the rules, I do;I won’t hurt a depytation.”
Thus encouraged, the buccaneer stepped forth more briskly,and having passed something to Silver,from hand to hand, slipped yet more smartly back again to his companions.
The sea-cook looked at what had been given him.
“The black spot!I thought so,” he observed.“Where might you have got the paper?Why, hillo!Look here, now; this ain’t lucky!You’ve gone and cut this out of a Bible.What fool’s cut a Bible?”
“Ah, there!” said Morgan. “There!Wot did I say?No good’ll come o’ that, I said.”