Eighteen

THE STORY CONTINUED BY THE DOCTOR: END OF THE FIRST DAY'S FIGHTING

We made our best speed across the narrow wood that now divided us from the stockade, and at every step the voices of the pirates rang nearer. Soon we could hear their feet as they ran, and the cracking of the branches.

I began to see we should have a fight for it, and looked to my gun.

"Captain," said I, "Trelawney is the best shot. Give him your gun; his own is useless."

The captain did so. At the same time, observing Gray to be unarmed, I handed him my sword. It did all our hearts good to see him try its weight and make the blade sing through the air. It was plain from every line of his body that our new man was well worth his place.

Forty yards farther on we came to the edge of the wood and saw the stockade in front of us. We came to it at about the middle of the south side, and, almost at the same time, seven of the enemy—Job Anderson at their head—appeared at the south-western corner.

They paused, as if surprised; and before they recovered, Trelawney and I, and Hunter and Joyce from the stockade, had time to fire. The four shots did the business. One of the enemy fell, and the rest turned and rushed back into the trees.

After loading again, we walked down the outside of the stockade to see the fallen enemy. He was dead—shot through the heart.

We began to rejoice over our good success, when just at that moment a pistol cracked in the bush, a ball whistled close past my ear, and poor Tom Redruth fell his length on the ground. Both Trelawney and I returned the shot; but, as we had nothing to aim at, it is probable that we only wasted powder. Then we loaded, and turned to poor Tom.

The captain and Gray were already examining him; and I saw at once that he was done for.

Our shots had driven away the enemy for a time. We carried poor Tom inside the stockade. Trelawney dropped down beside him on his knees, and kissed his hand, crying like a child.

"Am I going, doctor?" he asked.

"Tom, my man," said I, "you're going home."

"I wish I had had a shot at them with the gun first," he replied.

"Torn," said Trelawney, "say you forgive me, won't you?"

"Would that be respectful, from me to you, sir?" was the answer. "But so be it, Amen."

After a short silence, he said he thought somebody might read a prayer. "It's the custom, sir," he added. And not long after, without another word, he passed away.

During this time the captain, whom I had observed to be wonderfully large about the pockets, had turned out a great many various stores—the English flag, a Bible, some rope, a pen and other things. He set up a long pole and fixed the flag to it. This seemed to make his mind much easier. He went into the log-house and began to count the stores. When Tom died, he came forward with another flag and spread it over his body.

"Do not grieve, sir," he said, shaking Trelawney's hand. "How can a man die better than doing his duty?"

Then he pulled me to one side.

"Dr. Livesey," he said, "in how many weeks do you and Mr. Trelawney expect the other ship?"

I told him it was a question, not of weeks, but of months; that, if we were not back by the end of August, Blandly was to send to find us; but neither sooner nor later.

"Why, then," returned the captain, "I should say that our condition was very dangerous."

"How do you mean?" I asked.

"It's a pity, sir, we lost that second load. That's what I mean," replied the captain. "As for powder and shot, we'll do. But our stores are short, very short—so short, Dr. Livesey, that we're, perhaps, as well without that other mouth."

And he pointed to the dead body under the flag.

Just then, with a roar and a whistle, a round-shot passed high above the roof of the log-house and fell far beyond us in the wood.

"Oho!" said the captain. "Blaze away! You've little enough powder already, my lads."

At the second trial, the aim was better, and the ball descended inside the stockade, scattering a cloud of sand, but doing no further damage.

"Captain," said Mr. Trelawney, "the house cannot be seen from the ship. It must be the flag they are aiming at. Would it not be wiser to take it down?"

"Lower my flag!" cried the captain. "No, sir, not I"; and, as soon as he had said the words, I think we all agreed with him.

All through the evening they kept thundering away. Ball after ball flew over or fell short, or kicked up the sand outside the house; but they had to fire so high that the shot fell dead in the soft sand.

"There is one thing good about all this," said the captain: "the wood in front of us is probably clear of enemies. The sea has gone down a lot by now, and our stores should be uncovered. Who will offer to go and bring them in?"

Gray and Hunter were the first to come forward. Well armed, they crept out of the stockade; but it proved useless. The enemy were bolder than we fancied, or they put more trust in Israel's aim with the gun. For four or five of them were busy carrying off our stores, and every man of them was now provided with a gun from some secret store of their own.

The captain sat down to write, and here is the beginning of his note:

"Alexander Smollett, master; David Livesey, ship's doctor; Abraham Gray; John Trelawney, owner; John Hunter and Richard Joyce, owner's servants; being all that is left faithful of the ship's company—with stores for no more than ten days—these came on shore this day, and flew English flag on the log-house in Treasure Island. Thomas Redruth, owner's servant, shot by the enemy; James Hawkins, boy—"

And at the same time I was wondering over poor Jim Hawkins' fate.

A shout on the land side.

"Somebody calling us," said Hunter, who was on guard.

"Doctor! Captain! Hunter, is that you?" came the cries.

And I ran to the door in time to see Jim Hawkins come climbing over the stockade.