Fourteen

THE FIRST BLOW

I was so pleased at having slipped away from Long John, that I began to enjoy myself and look around me with some interest on the strange land that I was in.

I had crossed a low-lying land, some parts of it half under water; and I had now come out upon the edge of an open piece of sandy country, about a mile long, covered with a great number of trees, not unlike the oak. On the far side of the open country stood one of the hills, with two curious, rocky towers, shining brightly in the sun.

Then I came to a long wood of oak-like trees which grew low along the sand, the branches curiously bent, and the leaves thick, like a roof. The wood stretched down from the top of one of the sandy hills, spreading and growing taller as it went, until it reached the edge of the broad, low country.

All at once there began to go a sort of hurrying among the grasses; a wild duck flew up with a quack; another followed, and soon a great cloud of birds hung crying and circling in the air. I judged at once that some of the men from the ship must be drawing near. Nor was I deceived; for soon I heard the very distant and low sound of a human voice, which, as I continued to give ear, grew steadily louder and nearer.

This put me in a great fear, and I crept under cover of the nearest tree, and hid there, listening, as silent as a mouse.

Another voice answered; and then the first voice, which I now recognized to be Silver's, once more took up the story, and ran on for a long time. By the sound they must have been talking very seriously, and almost fiercely; but no clear word came to my hearing.

At last the speakers seemed to have paused and perhaps to have sat down; for not only did they cease to draw any nearer, but the birds themselves began to grow more quiet, and to settle again to their places in the grass.

I could tell the direction of the speakers exactly, not only by the sound of their voices, but by the way in which those birds behaved which were still alarmed and flying above them.

Creeping on my hands and knees, I moved steadily but slowly towards them; till at last, raising my head to an opening among the leaves, I could see clear down into a little green hollow closely set about with trees, where Long John Silver and another of the crew stood face to face.

Silver had thrown his hat on the ground beside him, and his face was shining with the heat.

"My lad," he was saying, "it's because I think gold dust of you—gold dust. If I hadn't been your friend, do you think I'd have been here warning you? It's to save your neck that I'm speaking, and if one of the wild fellows knew it, where would I be, Tom—now, tell me, where would I be?"

"Silver," said the other man—and I observed he was red in the face, and his voice shook—"Silver," said he, "you're old, and you're honest, or have the name for it; and you've money, too, which lots of poor seamen haven't; and you're brave, or I'm mistaken. And will you tell me you'll let yourself be led away with that crowd of foul creatures? Not you! As sure as God sees me, I'd sooner lose my hand. If I turn against my duty—"

And then all of a sudden there was a noise. I had found one of the honest men—well, here, at that same moment, came news of another. Far away out over the low land there arose, all of a sudden, a sound like the cry of anger, then another on the back of it; and then one terrible long-drawn cry. The rocks of the Spy-glass repeated it a dozen times; the whole troop of birds rose again, darkening heaven with their wings; and long after the death-cry was still ringing in my ears, silence had returned. Only the whisper of the descending birds and the thunder of the distant waves broke in upon the sleepy stillness of the afternoon.

Tom had leaped at the sound, but Silver had not moved. He stood where he was, resting lightly on his stick, watching his companion like a beast about to spring.

"John," said the sailor, stretching out his hand.

"Hands off!" cried Silver, leaping back a yard.

"Hands off, if you like, John Silver," said the other. "It's a black heart that can make you feared of me. But, in heaven's name, tell me what was that?"

"That?" returned Silver, smiling away, but more careful than ever, his eye a mere pin-point in his big face, but glittering like a bit of glass. "That? Oh, I think that'll be Alan."

And at this poor Tom's anger flashed out.

"Alan!" he cried. "Then rest his soul for a true seaman! And as for you, John Silver, you have been a friend of mine, but you're a friend of mine no more. If I die like a dog, I'll die in my duty. You've killed Alan, have you? Kill me, too, if you can."

And with that, this brave fellow turned his back directly on the cook, and set off walking for the beach. But he was not fated to go far. With a cry, John seized the branch of a tree, took the heavy stick from under his arms and sent it flying through the air. It struck poor Tom, with its point, right between the shoulders in the middle of his back. His hands flew up, he gave a cry, and fell.

He had no time given him to recover. Silver, quick as a monkey, even without leg or stick, was on the top of him next moment and had twice driven his knife in that helpless body. From my hiding-place, I could hear his breath as he struck the blows.

I do not know what it is to faint, but I do know that for the next few moments the whole world swam away from before me in a mist; Silver and the birds, and the tall Spy-glass hill-top, went round and round and over and over before my eyes, and all kinds of bells were ringing, and distant voices shouting in my ears.

When I recovered, the devil had pulled himself together, his stick under his arm, his hat upon his head. Just before him Tom lay lifeless upon the grass but the murderer cared nothing for him. He cleaned his bloody knife upon a handful of grass. Everything else was unchanged; the sun was still shining mercilessly on the misty low land and the tall tops of the mountain, and I could scarcely bring myself to believe that murder had been actually done, and a human life cruelly cut short a moment since, before my eyes.

But now John put his hand into his pocket, brought out a whistle, and blew it. The sound rang far across the heated air. I could not tell, of course, the meaning of the sign; but it instantly awoke my fears. More men would be coming. I might be discovered. They had already slain two of the honest people; after Tom and Alan, might not I come next?

Instantly I began to creep back again, with what speed and silence I could, to the more open part of the wood. As I did so, I could hear shouts coming and going between the old pirate and his companions, and this sound of danger lent me wings. As soon as I was clear of the bushes I ran as I never ran before, scarcely caring about my direction, so long as it led me from the murderers; and as I ran, fear grew and grew upon me, until it turned into a kind of madness.

When the gun was fired, how could I go back to the boats among those devils, their hands still red with murder. The first of them would cut my throat. It was all over, I thought. Good-bye to the Hispaniola; good-bye to Mr. Trelawney, the doctor and the captain. There was nothing left to me but death by hunger, or death at the hands of those men.

As I ran I had drawn near to the little hill with the double top.

And here a fresh alarm brought me to a standstill.