Nineteen

THE STORY TAKEN UP AGAIN BY JIM HAWKINS: IN THE STOCKADE

As soon as Ben Gunn saw the flag, he stopped me by the arm, and sat down.

"Now," said he, "there's your friends, sure enough."

"Far more probable that it's the enemy," I answered.

"No," he cried, "Silver would never put up the English flag. There has been a fight, and your friends have had the best of it and they are inside the stockade that Flint built years and years ago."

"Well," said I, "that may be so, and so be it; all the more reason that I should hurry on and join my friends."

"I won't go there," said Gunn, "no—not till I've seen your gentleman and got his solemn promise. But when Ben Gunn is wanted, you know where to find him, Jim. Just where you found him to-day. And whoever comes is to have a white thing in his hand, and he's to come alone."

"Well," said I, "I believe I understand. You wish to see Mr. Trelawney or the doctor; and you're to be found where I found you. Is that all?"

"And when?" he added. "Why, from about noon to about sunset."

"Good," said I,"and now may I go?"

"You won't forget?" he inquired anxiously. "And if these pirates camp on shore, their wives may be sorry for 'em in the morning."

Just at that moment there came the sound of the ship's gun, and a round-shot came tearing through the trees and struck the sand not a hundred yards from where we were standing. At the next moment each of us had run off in a different direction.

For a full hour the gun continued firing, and I thought it unsafe to go near the stockade. At last it ceased and I made my way round to the rear, and was soon warmly welcomed by the faithful party.

I had soon told my story, and began to look about me. The log-house was made of rough trunks of trees. It stood on a small sandy hill in the midst of the courtyard encircled by the stockade. Near its door was a spring of clear water. Inside it was a large flat stone and an iron basket to hold a fire.

The cold evening wind whistled through every crack of the building, and scattered the floor with a rain of fine sand. There was sand in our eyes, sand in our teeth, sand in our suppers. Our chimney was a square hole in the roof; it was but a little part of the smoke that found its way out, and the rest filled the house and got into our throats and into our eyes.

Add to this that Gray had his face tied up; and that poor old Tom Redruth lay along the wall, stiff and cold.

If we had been allowed to do nothing, we should all have fallen into despair, but Captain Smollett was never the man for that. He divided us into groups, or "watches." The doctor, and Gray, and I for one; Mr. Trelawney, Hunter and Joyce for the other. Tired as we all were, two were sent out for firewood; two more were sent to prepare a grave for Redruth; the doctor was named cook; I was put on guard at the door; and the captain himself went from one to another, keeping up our spirits and giving help wherever it was wanted.

From time to time the doctor came to the door for a little air and to rest his eyes, which were almost smoked out of his head; and whenever he did so, he had a word for me.

"That man Smollett," he said once, "is a better man than I am. And when I say that, it means a deal, Jim."

Another time he came and was silent for a time. Then he put his head on one side, and looked at me.

"Is this Ben Gunn mad?" he asked.

"I do not know," said I. "I rather think that he is mad."

"Yes," replied the doctor, "I expect he is—after being three years alone on a desert island. Was it cheese you said he had a fancy for?"

"Yes, sir, cheese," I answered.

"Well, Jim," said he, "just see the good that comes of being interested in one's food. You know that little box that I carry in my pocket? But do you know what is in it? Parmesan cheese, a very strong cheese made in Italy. Well, that's for Ben Gunn!"

Before supper was eaten we laid old Tom in the grave, and stood round him for a while bare-headed. Then, after supper, the three chiefs got together in a corner to consider what was to be done.

It appeared that they were very anxious because we had so few stores, fearing that we must yield from mere hunger long before help came. But our best hope, it was decided, was to kill off the pirates until they either yielded or ran away with the Hispaniola. From nineteen they had already become fifteen, two others were wounded, and one at least—the man shot beside the gun—seriously wounded, if he were not dead. And, besides that, we had two able helpers—rum and the heat of the weather.

As for the first, though we were about half a mile away; we could hear them roaring and singing late into the night; and as for the second, the doctor said that, camped where they were in the low land, half of them would be lying ill on their backs before a week.

"So," he added, "if we are not all shot down first, they'll be glad to get back in the ship."

"First ship that ever I lost," said Captain Smollett.

I was very tired, and fell fast asleep.

I was awakened next morning by a sound of voices.

"A white flag!" I heard someone say. "—Silver himself."

I jumped up and ran to look out through a hole in the wall.