Five

THE LAST OF THE BLIND MAN

Frightened though I was, I felt that I must find out what was happening. I crept back to the bank again. From there I could see the road before our door. I had scarcely reached this place before my enemies began to arrive, seven or eight of them running hard, and the man with the lamp some yards in front. Three men ran together, hand in hand; and I saw, even through the mist, that the middle one of these three was the blind man. The next moment his voice showed me that I was right.

"Down with the door!" he cried.

"Right, sir!" answered two or three; and a rush was made upon the "Benbow," the lamp-bearer following. Then I could see them pause, and heard whispering, as if they were surprised to find the door open. But the pause was not for long, for the blind man again issued his commands. His voice sounded louder and higher, as if he were on fire with eagerness and anger.

"In, in, in!" he shouted, and cursed them for their delay.

Four or five of them obeyed at once, two remaining on the road with the blind man. There was a pause, then a cry of surprise, and then a voice shouting from the house:

"Bill's dead!"

But the blind man cursed them again for their delay.

"Search him, some of you; and the rest of you run upstairs and get the chest," he cried.

I could hear their feet on our old stairs. Soon afterwards, fresh sounds of surprise arose; the window of the captain's room was thrown open with a noise of broken glass; and a man leaned out into the moonlight, head and shoulders, and addressed the blind man on the road below him.

"Pew," he cried, "they've been before us. Someone's turned the chest out."

"Is it there?" roared Pew.

"The money's there."

The blind man cursed the money.

"Flint's writing, I mean," he cried.

"We don't see it here anywhere," replied the man.

"Here, you below there, is it on Bill?" cried the blind man again.

At that, another fellow (probably the one who had remained below to search the captain's body) came to the door of the inn. "Bill's been searched already," said he; "nothing left."

"It's these people of the inn—it's that boy. I wish I had put his eyes out!" cried the blind man, Pew. "They were here no time ago—they had the door bolted when I tried it. Scatter, lads, and find 'em."

"Sure enough, they left their candle here," said the fellow from the window.

"Scatter and find' em! Search the whole house!" repeated Pew, striking with his stick upon the road.

Then there followed a great noise through all our old inn, heavy feet thundering to and fro, chairs thrown over, and doors kicked in. Then the men came out again, one after another, on the road, and declared that we were nowhere to be found. And just then the same whistle, that had alarmed my mother and myself over the dead captain's money, was once more clearly heard through the night, but this time twice repeated. I had thought it to be the blind man's whistle calling his crew to the attack; but I now found that it came from the hillside towards the village; and, from its effect upon the pirates, it seemed to be a sign to warn them of approaching danger.

"There's Dirk again," said one. "Twice! We'll have to move."

"Move, you dog!" cried Pew. "Dirk was a fool from the first—you wouldn't trouble about him. They must be close by; they can't be far; you have your hands on it. Scatter and look for them, you dogs! Oh, curse my soul," he cried, "if I had eyes!"

This order seemed to produce some effect, for two of the fellows began to look here and there, but half-heartedly, I thought, and with half an eye to their own danger all the time, while the rest stood doubtfully on the road.

"You have your hands on thousands of pounds, you fools, and you do nothing! You'd be as rich as kings if you could find it, and you know it's here, and you stand there waiting. There wasn't one of you dared face Bill, and I did it—a blind man! And I'm to lose my chance for you! I'm to be a poor, creeping thing, begging for rum, when I might be riding in a fine carriage! If you had the least bit of spirit in you, you would catch them still."

"Hang it, Pew, we've got the money!" murmured one.

"They may have hidden the blessed thing," said another. "Take the money, Pew, and don't stand here making such a noise."

"Noise" was indeed the right word, for Pew's anger rose high at these words, till at last he lost all control of himself, and he struck at them right and left in his blindness, and his stick sounded heavily on more than one.

These, in their turn, cursed back at the blind man, and tried to catch the stick and get it away from him.

This quarrel was the saving of us; for while it was still going on, another sound came from the top of the hill on the side of the village—the sound of horses. Almost at the same time a pistol-shot came from among the trees. And that was plainly the last warning of danger; for the pirates turned at once and ran, separating in every direction, one seaward along the bay, one across the hill, and so on. In half a minute not a sign of them remained, but Pew. They had deserted him—perhaps because they were too frightened to care about him, or perhaps as a punishment for his rough words and blows. I know not which was the reason; but there he remained, feeling his way wildly up and down the road with his stick and calling for his companions. Finally he took the wrong turn, and ran a few steps past me, towards the village, crying:

"Johnny, Black Dog, Dirk," and other names, "you won't leave old Pew, my lads—not old Pew!"

Just then the noise of horses came over the top of the hill, and four or five riders came in sight in the moonlight, and charged down the slope.

At this Pew saw his mistake, turned with a cry, and ran straight for the bridge, but missed it and rolled into the dry bed of the stream. He was on his feet again immediately. But he had now completely lost his sense of direction; he made another dash right under the nearest of the oncoming horses.

The rider tried to save him, but without success. Down went Pew with a terrible cry that rang high into the night; and the horse's feet fell on him and kicked him and passed by. He fell on his side, then gently rolled over on his face, and moved no more.

I leapt to my feet and shouted to the riders, and I soon saw what they were. A lad from the village near by had noticed a strange boat in the bay, and had seen something of the doings at the inn. He had run for help and met Captain Dance with his soldiers, and had brought them along.

Pew was dead, stone dead. I told Captain Dance my story. "I am glad I rode him down," said he.

We carried my mother back to the Benbow Inn. You cannot imagine a house in such a state of ruin as that was. Even the clock had been thrown down; but nothing had been taken away except the captain's money-bag. Mr. Dance could make nothing of the scene.

"They got the money, you say? Well, then, Hawkins, what were they after? More money, I suppose?"

"No, sir; not money, I think," replied I. "In fact, sir, I have the thing in my breast-pocket; and, to tell you the truth, I should like to get it put in safety."

"To be sure, boy; quite right," said he. "I'll take it, if you like."

"I thought, perhaps, Dr. Livesey—" I began.

"Perfectly right," he said, "perfectly right—a gentleman and an officer of the law. And, now I come to think of it, I might as well ride round there myself and report to him or Mr. Trelawney. Mr. Pew's dead; not that I am sorry for that, but he's dead, you see, and people will blame me, if they can, and give me a lot of trouble. If you like, I will take you along."

I got up on the horse behind him.