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Treasure Island-Robert Louis StevensonPart One. The Old Buccaneer!2Chapter I - The Old Sea-dog at the 'Admiral Benbow'!2Chapter II - Black Dog Appears and Disappears!6Chapter III - The Black Spot!11Chapter IV - The Sea Chest!15Chapter V - The Last of the Blind Man!19Chapter VI - The Captainʼs Papers!23Part Two. The Sea Cook!27Chapter VII - I Go to Bristol!27Chapter VIII - At the Sign of the 'Spy-Glass'!31Chapter IX - Powder and Arms!35Chapter X - The Voyage!39Chapter XI - What I Heard in the Apple Barrel!43Chapter XII - Council of War!47Part Three. My Shore Adventure!51Chapter XIII - How My Shore Adventure Began!51Chapter XIV - The First Blow!55Chapter XV - The Man of the Island!59Part Four. The Log Cabin!63Chapter XVI - Narrative Continued by the Doctor: How the Ship wasAbandoned!63Chapter XVII - Narrative Continued by the Doctor: The Jolly-boatʼs LastTrip!67Treasure IslandRobert Louis StevensonPage 1/142

Chapter XVIII - Narrative Continued by the Doctor: End of the First DayʼsFighting!70Chapter XIX - Narrative Resumed by Jim Hawkins: The Garrison in theStockade!73Chapter XX - Silverʼs Embassy!77Chapter XXI - The Attack!81Part V. My Sea Adventure!86Chapter XXII - How My Sea Adventure Began!86Chapter XXIII - The Ebb-tide Runs!90Chapter XXIV -The Cruise of the Coracle!93Chapter XXV - I Strike the Jolly Roger!97Chapter XXVI - Israel Hands!101Chapter XXVII - 'Pieces of Eight'!106Part Six. Captain Silver!111Chapter XXVIII - In the Enemyʼs Camp!111Chapter XXIX - The Black Spot Again!116Chapter XXX - On Parole!121Chapter XXXI - The Treasure Hunt — Flintʼs Pointer!126Chapter XXXII - The Treasure Hunt — The Voice Among the Trees!130Chapter XXXIII - The Fall of a Chieftain!134Chapter XXXIV - And Last!139Part One. The Old BuccaneerChapter I - The Old Sea-dog at the 'Admiral Benbow'Squire Trelawney, Dr. Livesey, and the rest of these gentlemen having asked me towrite down the whole particulars about Treasure Island, from the beginning to theend, keeping nothing back but the bearings of the island, and that only becausethere is still treasure not yet lifted, I take up my pen in the year of grace 17 and goTreasure IslandRobert Louis StevensonPage 2/142

back to the time when my father kept the Admiral Benbow inn and the brown oldseaman 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, hissea- chest following behind him in a hand-barrow — a tall, strong, heavy, nut-brownman, his tarry pigtail falling over the shoulder of his soiled blue coat, his handsragged and scarred, with black, broken nails, and the sabre cut across one cheek, adirty, livid white. I remember him looking round the cover and whistling to himselfas he did so, and then breaking out in that old sea-song that he sang so oftenafterwards:“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 thecapstan bars. Then he rapped on the door with a bit of stick like a handspike thathe 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 thetaste 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. Muchcompany, 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 theman who trundled the barrow; “bring up alongside and help up my chest. I’ll stayhere 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? Youmought call me captain. Oh, I see what you’re at — there”; and he threw down threeor four gold pieces on the threshold. “You can tell me when I’ve worked throughthat,” says he, looking as fierce as a commander.And indeed bad as his clothes were and coarsely as he spoke, he had none of theGermanappearance of a man who sailed before the mast, but seemed like a mate or skipperaccustomed to be obeyed or to strike. The man who came with the barrow told usthe mail had set him down the morning before at the Royal George, that he hadinquired what inns there were along the coast, and hearing ours well spoken of, Isuppose, and described as lonely, had chosen it from the others for his place ofresidence. 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 thecliffs with a brass telescope; all evening he sat in a corner of the parlour next thefire and drank rum and water very strong. Mostly he would not speak when spokenTreasure IslandRobert Louis StevensonPage 3/142

to, only look up sudden and fierce and blow through his nose like a fog-horn; and weand the people who came about our house soon learned to let him be. Every daywhen he came back from his stroll he would ask if any seafaring men had gone byalong the road. At first we thought it was the want of company of his own kind thatmade him ask this question, but at last we began to see he was desirous to avoidthem. When a seaman did put up at the Admiral Benbow (as now and then somedid, making by the coast road for Bristol) he would look in at him through thecurtained door before he entered the parlour; and he was always sure to be as silentas a mouse when any such was present. For me, at least, there was no secret aboutthe matter, for I was, in a way, a sharer in his alarms. He had taken me aside oneday and promised me a silver fourpenny on the first of every month if I would onlykeep my “weather-eye open for a seafaring man with one leg” and let him know themoment he appeared. Often enough when the first of the month came round and Iapplied to him for my wage, he would only blow through his nose at me and stareme down, but before the week was out he was sure to think better of it, bring me myfour-penny piece, and repeat his orders to look out for “the seafaring man with oneleg.”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 thecove and up the cliffs, I would see him in a thousand forms, and with a thousanddiabolical expressions. Now the leg would be cut off at the knee, now at the hip; nowhe was a monstrous kind of a creature who had never had but the one leg, and thatin the middle of his body. To see him leap and run and pursue me over hedge andditch was the worst of nightmares. And altogether I paid pretty dear for mymonthly 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 wasfar less afraid of the captain himself than anybody else who knew him. There werenights when he took a deal more rum and water than his head would carry; andthen he would sometimes sit and sing his wicked, old, wild sea-songs, mindingnobody; but sometimes he would call for glasses round and force all the tremblingcompany to listen to his stories or bear a chorus to his singing. Often I have heardthe house shaking with “Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum,” all the neighbours joining infor dear life, with the fear of death upon them, and each singing louder than theother to avoid remark. For in these fits he was the most overriding companion everknown; he would slap his hand on the table for silence all round; he would fly up ina passion of anger at a question, or sometimes because none wasput, and so he judged the company was not following his story. Nor would he allowanyone to leave the inn till he had drunk himself sleepy and reeled off to bed.Treasure IslandRobert Louis StevensonPage 4/142

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 havelived 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 peoplealmost as much as the crimes that he described. My father was always saying theinn would be ruined, for people would soon cease coming there to be tyrannized overand put down, and sent shivering to their beds; but I really believe his presence didus 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 theyounger men who pretended to admire him, calling him a “true sea-dog” and a “realold salt” and such like names, and saying there was the sort of man that madeEngland terrible at sea. In one way, indeed, he bade fair to ruin us, for he kept onstaying week after week, and at last month after month, so that all the money hadbeen long exhausted, and still my father never plucked up the heart to insist onhaving more. If ever he mentioned it, the captain blew through his nose so loudlythat you might say he roared, and stared my poor father out of the room. I haveseen him wringing his hands after such a rebuff, and I am sure the annoyance andthe 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 butto buy some stockings from a hawker. One of the cocks of his hat having fallendown, he let it hang from that day forth, though it was a great annoyance when itblew. I remember the appearance of his coat, which he patched himself upstairs inhis room, and which, before the end, was nothing but patches. He never wrote orreceived 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 everseen open.He was only once crossed, and that was towards the end, when my poor father wasfar gone in a decline that took him off. Dr. Livesey came late one afternoon to seethe patient, took a bit of dinner from my mother, and went into the parlour tosmoke a pipe until his horse should come down from the hamlet, for we had nostabling at the old Benbow. I followed him in, and I remember observing thecontrast 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 inrum, with his arms on the table. Suddenly he — the captain, that is — began topipe up his eternal song:“Fifteen men on the dead man’s chest — Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum! Drink andthe devil had done for the rest — Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!”Treasure IslandRobert Louis StevensonPage 5/142

At first I had supposed “the dead man’s chest” to be that identical big box of hisupstairs in the front room, and the thought had been mingled in my nightmareswith that of the one-legged seafaring man. But by this time we had all long ceasedto 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 lookedup for a moment quite angrily before he went on with his talk to old Taylor, thegardener, on a new cure for the rheumatics. In the meantime, the captain graduallybrightened up at his own music, and at last flapped his hand upon the table beforehim 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 hispipe between every word or two. The captain glared at him for a while, flapped hishand 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,” repliesthe doctor, “that if you keep on drinking rum, the world will soon be quit of a verydirty scoundrel!”The old fellow’s fury was awful. He sprang to his feet, drew and opened a sailor’sclasp-knife, and balancing it open on the palm of his hand, threatened to pin thedoctor to the wall.The doctor never so much as moved. He spoke to him as before, over his shoulderand in the same tone of voice, rather high, so that all the room might hear, butperfectly calm and steady: “If you do not put that knife this instant in your pocket, Ipromise, 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 mydistrict, you may count I’ll have an eye upon you day and night. I’m not a doctoronly; I’m a magistrate; and if I catch a breath of complaint against you, if it’s onlyfor a piece of incivility like tonight’s, I’ll take effectual means to have you hunteddown and routed out of this. Let that suffice.”Soon after, Dr. Livesey’s horse came to the door and he rode away, but the captainheld his peace that evening, and for many evenings to come.Chapter II - Black Dog Appears and DisappearsIt was not very long after this that there occurred the first of the mysterious eventsthat rid us at last of the captain, though not, as you will see, of his affairs. It was abitter cold winter, with long, hard frosts and heavy gales; and it was plain from theTreasure IslandRobert Louis StevensonPage 6/142

first that my poor father was little likely to see the spring. He sank daily, and mymother and I had all the inn upon our hands, and were kept busy enough withoutpaying much regard to our unpleasant guest.It was one January morning, very early — a pinching, frosty morning — the cove allgrey with hoar-frost