Four

THE SEA-CHEST

I lost no time, of course, in telling my mother all that I knew. We saw ourselves at once in a difficult and dangerous condition. The captain's order to mount at once and ride for Dr. Livesey would have left my mother alone and unprotected—which was not to be thought of. Indeed, it seemed impossible for either of us to remain much longer in the house: the fall of coals in the kitchen fire-place, even the sound of the clock, filled us with alarms. All around us we seemed to hear the sounds of approaching footsteps. In the sitting-room lay the dead body of the captain: and somewhere—somewhere—near us that terrible blind man was waiting and ready to return. There were moments when (as the saying is) I "jumped in my skin" for terror. Something must speedily be decided on.

On one thing my mother was firmly resolved: she would not lose the money which the captain owed her. "It belongs to me and it belongs to you, Jim, my poor fatherless boy. We'll have that chest open, if we die for it." Then my mother got a candle and, holding each other's hands, we advanced into the sitting-room. The captain lay as we had left him, on his back, with his eyes open, and one arm stretched out.

I shut the outside door and bolted it.

"Draw the curtains, Jim," whispered my mother; "they might come and watch outside. And now," said she, when I had done so, "we have to get the key off that; and who's to touch it, I should like to know!" and her voice broke as she said the words.

I went down on my knees at once. On the floor close to his hand there was a little round of paper, blackened on the one side. I could not doubt that this was the "black spot"; and taking it up, I found written on the other side, in a very good, clear handwriting, this short message:

You have till ten to-night.

"He had till ten, mother," said I; and just as I said it, our old clock sounded the hour. This sudden noise came as a fearful shock to us; but the news was good, for it was only six.

"Now, Jim," she said, "that key."

I felt in his pockets, one after another. A little money, some string and a few big needles, a pocket compass, and a knife were all that they contained, and I began to despair.

"Perhaps it's around his neck," whispered my mother.

I tore open his shirt at the neck, and there, sure enough, hanging to a bit of dirty string which I cut with his own knife, we found the key. At this success we were filled with hope, and hurried upstairs without delay to the little room where he had slept so long, and where his box had stood since the day he arrived.

It was like any other seaman's chest on the outside, the letter B burned on the top of it with a hot iron, and the corners broken as by long, rough use.

"Give me the key," said my mother; and she quickly turned it and threw open the chest.

A strong smell rose from the inside, but nothing was to be seen on the top except a suit of very good clothes, carefully brushed. Under that we found all sorts of things—a tin cup, a bar of silver, a pair of very fine pistols, an old clock, some jewelled pins of foreign make and of little value, and five or six West Indian shells.

We had found nothing of any value but the silver and the jewelled pins, and neither of these were of any use to us. Underneath there was an old long coat, whitened with sea-salt in many a harbour. My mother pulled it up, and there lay before us—the last things in the chest—something looking like papers, tied up in yellow cloth, and a bag, that gave forth, at a touch, the sound of gold.

"I'll show these fellows that I'm an honest woman," said my mother. "I'll have what is owed me, and not a penny over. Hold my bag." And she began to count over the amount of the captain's debt from the sailor's bag into the one that I was holding.

It was a long, difficult business, for the pieces were of all countries and sizes. The English pounds, too, were about the scarcest, and it was with these only that my mother knew how to make her count.

When we were about half-way through, I suddenly put my hand upon her arm; for I had heard in the silent, frosty air, a sound that brought my heart into my mouth—the tap-tapping of the blind man's stick upon the frozen road. It drew nearer and nearer, while we sat holding our breath. Then it struck sharp on the inn door; and then we could hear the handle being turned, and the bolt shaking as the hateful creature tried to enter; and then there was a long time of silence both within and without. At last the tapping began again and, to our great joy and thankfulness, died slowly again until it ceased to be heard.

"Mother," said I, "take the whole and let's be going"; for I was sure the bolted door must have given a warning to the enemy and would bring the whole lot of them about us very soon. And yet I was glad that I had bolted it—rather than meet that terrible blind man again.

But my mother, frightened as she was, would not take a penny more than was owed to her, and was firmly resolved not to be contented with less. It was not yet seven, she said, by a long way; she knew her rights and she would have them; and she was still talking about this, when a little low whistle sounded a good way off upon the hill. That was enough, and more than enough, for both of us.

"I'll take what I have," she said, jumping to her feet.

"And I'll take this for my share," said I, seizing the papers.

Next moment we were both finding our way downstairs in the darkness, leaving the candle by the empty chest; and the next moment we had opened the door and were running away from the house as fast as we could move. We had not started a moment too soon. The mist was rapidly vanishing; already the moon shone quite clear on the high ground on either side; and it was only in the exact bottom of the valley and round the inn door that a thin veil still hung unbroken to conceal the first steps of our escape. Less than half-way to the village, just beyond the bottom of the hill, we must come out into the moonlight. Nor was this all; for the sound of several footsteps running came already to our ears. As we looked back in their direction, a light swinging and still rapidly advancing, showed that one of the new-corners carried a lamp.

"My dear," said my mother suddenly, "take the money and run on. I am going to faint."

We were just at the little bridge, by good fortune; and I helped her, weak as she was, to the edge of the bank. There, sure enough, she gave a sigh, and fell on my shoulder. I do not know how I found the strength to do it at all, and I am afraid it was roughly done, but I dragged her down the bank and a little way under the arch. Farther I could not move her, for the bridge was too low to let me do more than creep below it. So there we had to stay—my mother lying almost entirely in the open, and both of us within hearing of the inn.