Part Two: The Sea-cook - Chapter 8: At the Sign of the Spy-glass

by Robert Louis Stevenson

　　When I had done breakfasting the squire gave me a noteaddressed to John Silver, at the sign of the Spy-glass,and told me I should easily find the place by followingthe line of the docks and keeping a bright lookout for alittle tavern with a large brass telescope for sign. I setoff, overjoyed at this opportunity to see some more of theships and seamen, and picked my way among a great crowd ofpeople and carts and bales, for the dock was now at itsbusiest, until I found the tavern in question.

　　It was a bright enough little place of entertainment.The sign was newly painted; the windows had neat redcurtains; the floor was cleanly sanded. There was astreet on each side and an open door on both, whichmade the large, low room pretty clear to see in, inspite of clouds of tobacco smoke.

　　The customers were mostly seafaring men, and they talkedso loudly that I hung at the door, almost afraid to enter.

　　As I was waiting, a man came out of a side room, and ata glance I was sure he must be Long John. His left legwas cut off close by the hip, and under the leftshoulder he carried a crutch, which he managed withwonderful dexterity, hopping about upon it like a bird.He was very tall and strong, with a face as big as aham--plain and pale, but intelligent and smiling.Indeed, he seemed in the most cheerful spirits,whistling as he moved about among the tables, with amerry word or a slap on the shoulder for the morefavoured of his guests.

　　Now, to tell you the truth, from the very first mentionof Long John in Squire Trelawney's letter I had taken afear in my mind that he might prove to be the very one-legged sailor whom I had watched for so long at the oldBenbow. But one look at the man before me was enough.I had seen the captain, and Black Dog, and the blindman, Pew, and I thought I knew what a buccaneer waslike--a very different creature, according to me, fromthis clean and pleasant-tempered landlord.

　　I plucked up courage at once, crossed the threshold,and walked right up to the man where he stood, proppedon his crutch, talking to a customer.

　　"Mr. Silver, sir?" I asked, holding out the note.

　　"Yes, my lad," said he; "such is my name, to be sure. Andwho may you be?" And then as he saw the squire's letter,he seemed to me to give something almost like a start.

　　"Oh!" said he, quite loud, and offering his hand. "Isee. You are our new cabin-boy; pleased I am to see you."

　　And he took my hand in his large firm grasp.

　　Just then one of the customers at the far side rosesuddenly and made for the door. It was close by him,and he was out in the street in a moment. But hishurry had attracted my notice, and I recognized him atglance. It was the tallow-faced man, wanting twofingers, who had come first to the Admiral Benbow.

　　"Oh," I cried, "stop him! It's Black Dog!"

　　"I don't care two coppers who he is," cried Silver. "Buthe hasn't paid his score. Harry, run and catch him."

　　One of the others who was nearest the door leaped upand started in pursuit.

　　"If he were Admiral Hawke he shall pay his score,"cried Silver; and then, relinquishing my hand, "Who didyou say he was?" he asked. "Black what?"

　　"Dog, sir," said I. Has Mr. Trelawney not told you ofthe buccaneers? He was one of them."

　　"So?" cried Silver. "In my house! Ben, run and helpHarry. One of those swabs, was he? Was that youdrinking with him, Morgan? Step up here."

　　The man whom he called Morgan--an old, grey-haired,mahogany-faced sailor--came forward pretty sheepishly,rolling his quid.

　　"Now, Morgan," said Long John very sternly, "you neverclapped your eyes on that Black--Black Dog before, didyou, now?"

　　"Not I, sir," said Morgan with a salute.

　　"You didn't know his name, did you?"

　　"No, sir."

　　"By the powers, Tom Morgan, it's as good for you!"exclaimed the landlord. "If you had been mixed up withthe like of that, you would never have put another footin my house, you may lay to that. And what was hesaying to you?"

　　"I don't rightly know, sir," answered Morgan.

　　"Do you call that a head on your shoulders, or a blesseddead-eye?" cried Long John. "Don't rightly know, don'tyou! Perhaps you don't happen to rightly know who you wasspeaking to, perhaps? Come, now, what was he jawing--v'yages,cap'ns, ships? Pipe up! What was it?"

　　"We was a-talkin' of keel-hauling," answered Morgan.

　　"Keel-hauling, was you? And a mighty suitable thing,too, and you may lay to that. Get back to your placefor a lubber, Tom."

　　And then, as Morgan rolled back to his seat, Silver addedto me in a confidential whisper that was very flattering,as I thought, "He's quite an honest man, Tom Morgan, on'ystupid. And now," he ran on again, aloud, "let's see--BlackDog? No, I don't know the name, not I. Yet I kind of thinkI've--yes, I've seen the swab. He used to come here with ablind beggar, he used."

　　"That he did, you may be sure," said I. "I knew thatblind man too. His name was Pew."

　　"It was!" cried Silver, now quite excited. "Pew! Thatwere his name for certain. Ah, he looked a shark, hedid! If we run down this Black Dog, now, there'll benews for Cap'n Trelawney! Ben's a good runner; fewseamen run better than Ben. He should run him down,hand over hand, by the powers! He talked o' keel-hauling, did he? I'll keel-haul him!"

　　All the time he was jerking out these phrases he wasstumping up and down the tavern on his crutch, slappingtables with his hand, and giving such a show ofexcitement as would have convinced an Old Bailey judgeor a Bow Street runner. My suspicions had beenthoroughly reawakened on finding Black Dog at the Spy-glass, and I watched the cook narrowly. But he was toodeep, and too ready, and too clever for me, and by thetime the two men had come back out of breath andconfessed that they had lost the track in a crowd, andbeen scolded like thieves, I would have gone bail forthe innocence of Long John Silver.

　　"See here, now, Hawkins," said he, "here's a blessedhard thing on a man like me, now, ain't it? There'sCap'n Trelawney--what's he to think? Here I have thisconfounded son of a Dutchman sitting in my own housedrinking of my own rum! Here you comes and tells me ofit plain; and here I let him give us all the slipbefore my blessed deadlights! Now, Hawkins, you do mejustice with the cap'n. You're a lad, you are, butyou're as smart as paint. I see that when you firstcome in. Now, here it is: What could I do, with thisold timber I hobble on? When I was an A B mastermariner I'd have come up alongside of him, hand overhand, and broached him to in a brace of old shakes, Iwould; but now--"

　　And then, all of a sudden, he stopped, and his jawdropped as though he had remembered something.

　　"The score!" he burst out. "Three goes o' rum! Why,shiver my timbers, if I hadn't forgotten my score!"

　　And falling on a bench, he laughed until the tears ran downhis cheeks. I could not help joining, and we laughed together,peal after peal, until the tavern rang again.

　　"Why, what a precious old sea-calf I am!" he said atlast, wiping his cheeks. "You and me should get onwell, Hawkins, for I'll take my davy I should be ratedship's boy. But come now, stand by to go about. Thiswon't do. Dooty is dooty, messmates. I'll put on myold cockerel hat, and step along of you to Cap'nTrelawney, and report this here affair. For mind you,it's serious, young Hawkins; and neither you nor me'scome out of it with what I should make so bold as tocall credit. Nor you neither, says you; not smart--none of the pair of us smart. But dash my buttons!That was a good un about my score."

　　And he began to laugh again, and that so heartily, thatthough I did not see the joke as he did, I was againobliged to join him in his mirth.

　　On our little walk along the quays, he made himself themost interesting companion, telling me about thedifferent ships that we passed by, their rig, tonnage,and nationality, explaining the work that was goingforward--how one was discharging, another taking incargo, and a third making ready for sea--and every nowand then telling me some little anecdote of ships orseamen or repeating a nautical phrase till I hadlearned it perfectly. I began to see that here was oneof the best of possible shipmates.

　　When we got to the inn, the squire and Dr. Livesey wereseated together, finishing a quart of ale with a toastin it, before they should go aboard the schooner on avisit of inspection.

　　Long John told the story from first to last, with agreat deal of spirit and the most perfect truth. "Thatwas how it were, now, weren't it, Hawkins?" he wouldsay, now and again, and I could always bear himentirely out.

　　The two gentlemen regretted that Black Dog had gotaway, but we all agreed there was nothing to be done,and after he had been complimented, Long John took uphis crutch and departed.

　　"All hands aboard by four this afternoon," shouted thesquire after him.

　　"Aye, aye, sir," cried the cook, in the passage.

　　"Well, squire," said Dr. Livesey, "I don't put muchfaith in your discoveries, as a general thing; but Iwill say this, John Silver suits me."

　　"The man's a perfect trump," declared the squire.

　　"And now," added the doctor, "Jim may come on boardwith us, may he not?"

　　"To be sure he may," says squire. "Take your hat,Hawkins, and we'll see the ship."