Twenty-five

I PULL DOWN THE FLAG

I climbed up and got on board. There were the two watchmen sure enough: Red-cap on his back, with his arms stretched out, and his teeth showing between his open lips; Israel Hands leant against the side, his head on his breast, his hands lying open before him, his face as white as a candle.

At every jump of the ship Red-cap swung this way and that, but still with outstretched arms and the fixed smile, showing his teeth—a terrible sight. At every jump too Hands seemed to sink into himself, and settle down lower and lower; and at last I could see nothing except his ear.

At the same time, I observed, around both of them, marks of dark blood upon the boards, and I began to feel sure that they had killed each other.

While I was thus looking and wondering, Israel Hands turned round, and, with a low moan, worked himself back to the shape in which I had seen him first. The moan, which told of pain and fearful weakness, and the way in which his mouth hung open, went right to my heart. But when I remembered the talk I had heard from the apple barrel, all pity left me.

"I've come on board, Mr. Hands," I said.

He rolled his eyes round heavily; but he was too far gone to express surprise. All he could do was to utter one word, "Rum."

I saw that there was no time to lose; and I went quickly below.

The room was such a scene of ruin as you can hardly fancy. All the locked places had been broken open in search of the map. The floor was thick with dirt. The white painted walls bore the marks of dirty hands. As the ship rolled, dozens of empty bottles knocked together in the corners. One of the doctor's books lay open on the table, with half of the pages torn out—I suppose, for pipe-lights. In the midst of all this the lamp still cast a smoky glow.

I found a bottle with some rum left, for Hands; and for myself I got out some bread, some fruit, and a piece of cheese. I brought these up with me. Then I went to the water-barrel, and had a good drink; and then at last I gave Hands the rum.

He must have drunk a good quarter of it before he took the bottle from his mouth.

"Yes," said he, "by thunder, I wanted some o' that."

I had sat down already in my own corner and begun to eat.

"Much hurt?" I asked him.

He barked like a dog.

"If that doctor was on board," he said, "I'd be right soon enough; but I'm unfortunate, you see, and that's what's the matter with me. As for that fellow he's good and dead, he is," he added, indicating the man with the red cap. "And where might you have come from?"

"Well," said I, "I've come on board to take charge of this ship, Mr. Hands; and you'll please regard me as your captain until further orders."

He looked at me angrily enough, but said nothing. Some of the colour had come back into his cheeks, though he still looked very sick and still continued to slip out and settle down as the ship jumped about.

"Mr. Hands," I continued, "I can't have that pirate flag up there; and, if you allow me, I'll take it down."

I then pulled down the pirate's black flag, and threw it over the side.

"God save the King!" said I, waving my cap; "and there's an end to Captain Silver!"

He watched me keenly, his head on his breast.

"I suppose," he said at last, "I suppose, Cap'n Hawkins, you'll want to get on shore now. Suppose we talk."

"Why yes," said I, "with all my heart, Mr. Hands. Say on." And I went back to my meal.

"This man," he began, nodding weakly at the dead body—"O'Brien was his name—a foul Irelander—this man and me got the sail on her meaning to sail her back. Well, he's dead now, he is; and who's to sail this ship, I don't see. Unless I tell you how to do it, you can't sail her, as far as I can tell. Now, look here, if you give me food and drink, and an old handkerchief to tie my wound up, I'll tell you how to sail her; and that's about fair and square, isn't it?"

"I'll tell you one thing," said I. "I'm not going back to the old place. I mean to get into North Bay, and put her on the beach there."

"To be sure you do," he cried. "Why, I'm not such a fool, after all. I can see, can't I? I've had my chance, I have, and I've lost; and now you've got yours. North Bay? Why, I haven't no choice, not I! I'd help you sail her to the devil, by thunder! so I would."

Well, as it seemed to me, there was some sense in this. We made our bargain immediately. In three minutes I had the Hispaniola sailing easily before the wind along the coast of Treasure Island, with good hopes of turning the northern point ere noon, and reaching North Bay before high water, when we might beach her safely.

Then I went below to my own chest, where I got a soft silk handkerchief of my mother's. With this, and with my aid, Hands bound up the great wound he had received in the leg, and after he had eaten a little and had a swallow or two more of the rum, he began to look better, sat straighter up, spoke louder and clearer, and looked in every way another man.

I was greatly pleased with my new command, and pleased with the bright, sunshiny weather. I had now plenty of water and good things to eat, and my fears as to what the others would say of my deserting the stockade were quieted by the great success I had made. I should, I think, have had nothing left me to desire but for the eyes of Hands as they followed me about, seeming to laugh at me, and the odd smile that appeared on his face, as he watched and watched me at my work.