Part Five: My Sea Adventure - Chapter 22: How My Sea Adventure Began

by Robert Louis Stevenson

　　There was no return of the mutineers--not so much asanother shot out of the woods. They had "got theirrations for that day," as the captain put it, and wehad the place to ourselves and a quiet time to overhaulthe wounded and get dinner. Squire and I cookedoutside in spite of the danger, and even outside wecould hardly tell what we were at, for horror of theloud groans that reached us from the doctor's patients.

　　Out of the eight men who had fallen in the action, onlythree still breathed--that one of the pirates who hadbeen shot at the loophole, Hunter, and CaptainSmollett; and of these, the first two were as good asdead; the mutineer indeed died under the doctor'sknife, and Hunter, do what we could, never recoveredconsciousness in this world. He lingered all day,breathing loudly like the old buccaneer at home in hisapoplectic fit, but the bones of his chest had beencrushed by the blow and his skull fractured in falling,and some time in the following night, without sign orsound, he went to his Maker.

　　As for the captain, his wounds were grievous indeed,but not dangerous. No organ was fatally injured.Anderson's ball--for it was Job that shot him first--had broken his shoulder-blade and touched the lung, notbadly; the second had only torn and displaced somemuscles in the calf. He was sure to recover, thedoctor said, but in the meantime, and for weeks tocome, he must not walk nor move his arm, nor so much asspeak when he could help it.

　　My own accidental cut across the knuckles was a flea-bite. Doctor Livesey patched it up with plaster andpulled my ears for me into the bargain.

　　After dinner the squire and the doctor sat by thecaptain's side awhile in consultation; and when theyhad talked to their hearts' content, it being then alittle past noon, the doctor took up his hat and pistols,girt on a cutlass, put the chart in his pocket, and witha musket over his shoulder crossed the palisade on thenorth side and set off briskly through the trees.

　　Gray and I were sitting together at the far end of theblock house, to be out of earshot of our officersconsulting; and Gray took his pipe out of his mouth andfairly forgot to put it back again, so thunder-struckhe was at this occurrence.

　　"Why, in the name of Davy Jones," said he, "is Dr.Livesey mad?"

　　"Why no," says I. "He's about the last of this crewfor that, I take it."

　　"Well, shipmate," said Gray, "mad he may not be; but ifhe's not, you mark my words, I am."

　　"I take it," replied I, "the doctor has his idea; andif I am right, he's going now to see Ben Gunn."

　　I was right, as appeared later; but in the meantime,the house being stifling hot and the little patch ofsand inside the palisade ablaze with midday sun, Ibegan to get another thought into my head, which wasnot by any means so right. What I began to do was toenvy the doctor walking in the cool shadow of the woodswith the birds about him and the pleasant smell of thepines, while I sat grilling, with my clothes stuck tothe hot resin, and so much blood about me and so manypoor dead bodies lying all around that I took a disgustof the place that was almost as strong as fear.

　　All the time I was washing out the block house, andthen washing up the things from dinner, this disgustand envy kept growing stronger and stronger, till atlast, being near a bread-bag, and no one then observingme, I took the first step towards my escapade andfilled both pockets of my coat with biscuit.

　　I was a fool, if you like, and certainly I was going todo a foolish, over-bold act; but I was determined to doit with all the precautions in my power. Thesebiscuits, should anything befall me, would keep me, atleast, from starving till far on in the next day.

　　The next thing I laid hold of was a brace of pistols,and as I already had a powder-horn and bullets, I feltmyself well supplied with arms.

　　As for the scheme I had in my head, it was not a badone in itself. I was to go down the sandy spit thatdivides the anchorage on the east from the open sea,find the white rock I had observed last evening, andascertain whether it was there or not that Ben Gunn hadhidden his boat, a thing quite worth doing, as I stillbelieve. But as I was certain I should not be allowedto leave the enclosure, my only plan was to take Frenchleave and slip out when nobody was watching, and thatwas so bad a way of doing it as made the thing itselfwrong. But I was only a boy, and I had made my mind up.

　　Well, as things at last fell out, I found an admirableopportunity. The squire and Gray were busy helping thecaptain with his bandages, the coast was clear, I madea bolt for it over the stockade and into the thickestof the trees, and before my absence was observed I wasout of cry of my companions.

　　This was my second folly, far worse than the first, asI left but two sound men to guard the house; but likethe first, it was a help towards saving all of us.

　　I took my way straight for the east coast of theisland, for I was determined to go down the sea side ofthe spit to avoid all chance of observation from theanchorage. It was already late in the afternoon,although still warm and sunny. As I continued tothread the tall woods, I could hear from far before menot only the continuous thunder of the surf, but acertain tossing of foliage and grinding of boughs whichshowed me the sea breeze had set in higher than usual.Soon cool draughts of air began to reach me, and a fewsteps farther I came forth into the open borders of thegrove, and saw the sea lying blue and sunny to thehorizon and the surf tumbling and tossing its foamalong the beach.

　　I have never seen the sea quiet round Treasure Island.The sun might blaze overhead, the air be without abreath, the surface smooth and blue, but still thesegreat rollers would be running along all the externalcoast, thundering and thundering by day and night; andI scarce believe there is one spot in the island wherea man would be out of earshot of their noise.

　　I walked along beside the surf with great enjoyment,till, thinking I was now got far enough to the south, Itook the cover of some thick bushes and crept warily upto the ridge of the spit.

　　Behind me was the sea, in front the anchorage. The seabreeze, as though it had the sooner blown itself out byits unusual violence, was already at an end; it hadbeen succeeded by light, variable airs from the south andsouth-east, carrying great banks of fog; and the anchorage,under lee of Skeleton Island, lay still and leaden as whenfirst we entered it. The Hispaniola, in that unbrokenmirror, was exactly portrayed from the truck to thewaterline, the Jolly Roger hanging from her peak.

　　Alongside lay one of the gigs, Silver in the stern-sheets--him I could always recognize--while a couple ofmen were leaning over the stern bulwarks, one of themwith a red cap--the very rogue that I had seen somehours before stride-legs upon the palisade. Apparentlythey were talking and laughing, though at thatdistance--upwards of a mile--I could, of course, hearno word of what was said. All at once there began themost horrid, unearthly screaming, which at firststartled me badly, though I had soon remembered thevoice of Captain Flint and even thought I could makeout the bird by her bright plumage as she sat perchedupon her master's wrist.

　　Soon after, the jolly-boat shoved off and pulled forshore, and the man with the red cap and his comradewent below by the cabin companion.

　　Just about the same time, the sun had gone down behindthe Spy-glass, and as the fog was collecting rapidly,it began to grow dark in earnest. I saw I must lose notime if I were to find the boat that evening.

　　The white rock, visible enough above the brush, wasstill some eighth of a mile further down the spit, andit took me a goodish while to get up with it, crawling,often on all fours, among the scrub. Night had almostcome when I laid my hand on its rough sides. Rightbelow it there was an exceedingly small hollow of greenturf, hidden by banks and a thick underwood about knee-deep, that grew there very plentifully; and in the centreof the dell, sure enough, a little tent of goat- skins,like what the gipsies carry about with them in England.

　　I dropped into the hollow, lifted the side of the tent,and there was Ben Gunn's boat--home-made if everanything was home-made; a rude, lop-sided framework oftough wood, and stretched upon that a covering of goat-skin, with the hair inside. The thing was extremelysmall, even for me, and I can hardly imagine that itcould have floated with a full-sized man. There wasone thwart set as low as possible, a kind of stretcherin the bows, and a double paddle for propulsion.

　　I had not then seen a coracle, such as the ancient Britonsmade, but I have seen one since, and I can give you nofairer idea of Ben Gunn's boat than by saying it was likethe first and the worst coracle ever made by man. But thegreat advantage of the coracle it certainly possessed, forit was exceedingly light and portable.

　　Well, now that I had found the boat, you would havethought I had had enough of truantry for once, but inthe meantime I had taken another notion and become soobstinately fond of it that I would have carried itout, I believe, in the teeth of Captain Smolletthimself. This was to slip out under cover of thenight, cut the Hispaniola adrift, and let her goashore where she fancied. I had quite made up my mindthat the mutineers, after their repulse of the morning,had nothing nearer their hearts than to up anchor andaway to sea; this, I thought, it would be a fine thingto prevent, and now that I had seen how they left theirwatchmen unprovided with a boat, I thought it might bedone with little risk.

　　Down I sat to wait for darkness, and made a hearty mealof biscuit. It was a night out of ten thousand for mypurpose. The fog had now buried all heaven. As thelast rays of daylight dwindled and disappeared, absoluteblackness settled down on Treasure Island. And when,at last, I shouldered the coracle and groped my waystumblingly out of the hollow where I had supped, therewere but two points visible on the whole anchorage.

　　One was the great fire on shore, by which the defeatedpirates lay carousing in the swamp. The other, a mereblur of light upon the darkness, indicated the positionof the anchored ship. She had swung round to the ebb--her bow was now towards me--the only lights on boardwere in the cabin, and what I saw was merely areflection on the fog of the strong rays that flowedfrom the stern window.

　　The ebb had already run some time, and I had to wadethrough a long belt of swampy sand, where I sankseveral times above the ankle, before I came to theedge of the retreating water, and wading a little wayin, with some strength and dexterity, set my coracle,keel downwards, on the surface.