Two

BLACK DOG APPEARS AND DISAPPEARS

It was not very long after this that there happened the first of the strange events that set us free at last of the captain—though not, as you will see, of his business. It was a very cold winter, with long, hard frosts and heavy storms; and it was plain from the first that my poor father would not see the spring. He grew daily weaker, and my mother and I had all the work of the inn to do, and were kept busy enough, without attending much to our unpleasant guest.

It was one January morning, very early; a cold, frosty morning. The captain had risen earlier than usual, and set out down the beach, his short sword swinging under the broad skirts of the old blue coat, his brass spy-glass under his arm, his hat on the back of his head. I remember his breath hanging like smoke in the air behind him as he marched off, and the last sound I heard of him, as he passed the big rock, was his blowing loudly through his nose, 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 door opened, and a man stepped in on whom I had never set my eyes before. He was a yellow-faced creature, wanting two fingers of the left hand; and, though he wore a sword, he did not look much like a fighter. I had always my eye open for seamen, with one leg or two, and I remember that this one surprised me. He was not like a sailor, and yet he had some taste of the sea about him.

I asked him what he required, 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 made sign to me to draw near. I paused where I was, with a cloth in my hand.

"Come here, boy," said he. "Come nearer here."

I took a step nearer.

"Is this table for my friend Bill?" he asked, with a nasty look.

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

"Well," said he, "my friend Bill would be called the captain. He has a cut on one cheek, and a very pleasant way with him, particularly in drink. We'll suppose that your captain has a cut on one cheek—and we'll suppose, if you like, that that cheek's the right one. Ah, well! I told you. Now, is my friend Bill in this house?"

I told him that he was out walking.

"Which way, boy? Which way is he gone?"

I pointed out the rock and told him by which way the captain would return, and how soon, and answered a few other questions. "Ah," said he, "this'll be as good as drink to my friend Bill."

The stranger kept waiting about just inside the inn door. At last he saw the captain coming along the road. Then, "Sure enough," he said, "here's my friend Bill, with a spyglass under his arm, bless his old heart, to be sure. You and me'll just go back into the room, my son, and get behind the door, and we'll give Bill a little surprise—bless his heart, I say again."

So saying, the stranger went with me into the sitting-room, and put me behind him in the corner so that we were both hidden by the open door. I was very much alarmed, as you may fancy, and it rather added to my fears to observe that the stranger was certainly frightened himself. He loosened the blade of his sword; and all the time we were waiting there, he kept swallowing, as if there were something in his throat.

At last in came the captain, shut the door behind him, without looking to the right or left, and marched straight across the room to where his breakfast lay ready for him.

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

The captain turned quickly round on his heel; all the brown had gone out of his face, and even his nose was blue; he had the look of a man who sees the Evil One; and, indeed, I felt sorry to see him, all in a moment, turn so old and sick.

"Come, Bill, you know me; you know your old friend, Bill, surely," said the stranger.

The captain made a sound in his throat.

"Black Dog!" said he.

"And who else?" replied the other, now more sure of himself. "Black Dog, come to see his old friend Billy, at the Benbow Inn. Ah, Bill, Bill, we have seen a lot of things, we two, since I lost those two fingers," holding up his damaged hand.

"Now, look here," said the captain; "you've hunted me down; here I am; well, then, speak up: what is it?"

"That's you, Bill," returned Black Dog; "you're in the right, Billy. I'll have a glass of rum from this dear child here, and we'll sit down, if you please, and talk, like old friends."

When I returned with the rum, they were already seated on either side of the captain's breakfast-table, Black Dog next to the door, and sitting on the side of his chair, so as to have one eye on his old friend, and one, as I thought, on his way of escape.

He ordered me to go, and leave the door wide open. "None of your key-holes for me, boy," he said; and I left them together and went into the next room.

For a long time, though I certainly did my best to listen, I could hear nothing but a low murmuring; but at last the voice began to grow higher, and I could pick up a word or two, mostly foul ones, from the captain.

"No, no, no; and an end of it!" he cried once. And again, "If it comes to hanging, hang all, say I."

Then all of a sudden there was a fearful burst of foul words and other noises. The chair and table went over. The sound of fighting followed; and then a cry of pain, and the next instant I saw Black Dog running away, and the captain hotly pursuing, both with drawn swords, and blood was streaming from Black Dog's left shoulder. Just at the door, the captain aimed one last fearful blow at the fellow, which would certainly have cut him in half, had it not been caught by our big sign-board. You may see the mark on the lower side of the board to this day.

That blow was the last of the battle. Once out upon the road, Black Dog, in spite of his wound, showed a wonderful speed, and disappeared over the edge of the hill in half a minute. The captain stood gazing at the sign-board as if he did not know where he was. Then he passed his hand over his eyes several times, and at last turned back into the house.

"Jim," said he, "rum"; and as he spoke, he nearly fell, but caught himself with one hand against the wall.

"Are you hurt?" cried I.

"Rum," he repeated. "I must get away from here. Rum! rum!"

I ran to fetch it; but I was quite unsteadied by all that had happened, and I broke a glass, and while I was pouring out the rum again, I heard a loud fall in the sitting-room. Running in, I beheld the captain lying full length upon the floor. At the same instant my mother, alarmed by the cries and fighting, came running downstairs to help me. Between us we raised his head. He was breathing very loud and hard; but his eyes were closed, and his face a dreadful colour.

"Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" cried my mother, "what a shame upon the house! And your poor father sick!"

We had no idea what to do to help the captain, nor any other thought but that he had got his death-hurt in the struggle with the stranger. I got the rum, to be sure, and tried to put it down his throat; but his teeth were tightly shut. We were very glad when the door opened and Dr. Livesey came in, on his visit to my father.

"Oh, doctor," we cried, "what shall we do? Where is he wounded?"

"Wounded? Don't be silly!" said the doctor. "No more wounded than you or I. He is ill, seriously ill, as I warned him that he would be, if he went on drinking rum. Now, Mrs. Hawkins, just you run upstairs to your husband, and tell him, if possible, nothing about it. For my part, I must do my best to save this fellow's entirely worthless life; and Jim here will get me a large cup."

When I got back with the cup, the doctor had already cut open the captain's coat, and laid bare his great strong arm. Strange pictures and words had been pricked into the skin in several places. "Here's good fortune", "A fair wind", and "Billy Bones his fancy" were very neatly and clearly drawn on the lower part of the arm; and up near the shoulder there was a picture of a man being hanged.

"A true sign of the future," said the doctor, touching this picture with his finger. "And now, Master Billy Bones, if that be your name, we'll have a look at the colour of your blood. Jim," he said, "are you afraid of blood?"

"No, sir," said I.

"Well, then," said he, "you hold the cup"; and with that he took his knife.

A great deal of blood was taken before the captain opened his eyes and looked about him. First he recognized the doctor with an angry look; then his eyes fell upon me, and he looked happier. But suddenly his colour changed, and he tried to raise himself, crying:

"Where's Black Dog?"

"There is no Black Dog here," said the doctor. "You have been drinking rum; and exactly what I warned you of has happened; and I have just, very much against my own will, dragged you out of the grave. Now. Mr. Bones—"

"That's not my name," he said angrily.

"Much I care," replied the doctor. "It's the name of a pirate whom I knew once; and I call you by it for short, and what I have to say to you is this: one glass of rum won't kill you, but if you take one, you'll take another and another; and I tell you that, if you don't stop drinking, you'll die. Do you understand that? Come, now, try your best. I'll help you to your bed for once."

Between us, with much trouble, we got him upstairs, and laid him on his bed, where his head fell back, as if he were almost fainting.

"Now, remember," said the doctor, "the name of rum for you is death."

And with that he went off to see my father, taking me with him by the arm.

"This is nothing," he said, as soon as he had closed the door. "I have drawn blood enough to keep him quiet for a time; he should lie for a week where he is; that is the best thing for him and you; but the next attack will finish him."