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Острiв Скарбiв / Treasure Island
Роберт Луiс Стiвенсон
Видання з паралельним текстом
«Острiв Скарбiв» – найвизначнiший пригодницький роман талановитого англiйського письменника Р. Л. Стiвенсона (1850–1894). Таемнича карта, небезпечна експедицiя, пiрати – в цiй iсторii е все для тих, хто захоплюеться неймовiрними пригодами. Головний герой роману, юний Джiм Гокiнс, бере участь у пошуку скарбiв, якi захованi на вiдлюдному островi знаменитим капiтаном Флiнтом. Смiливiсть i вiдвага Джiма та його друзiв перемагають хитрiсть i жорстокiсть одноногого Джона Сiльвера й допомагають iм знайти скарб i благополучно повернутися додому.
Robert Louis Stevenson
Treasure Island
Роберт Льюiс Стiвенсон
Острiв Скарбiв
© А. В. Мартиненко, художественное оформление, 2017
© Видавництво «Фолiо», марка серii, 2011
* * *
Part one
The Old Buccaneer
Частина перша
Старий пiрат
1
The Old Sea-dog at the «Admiral Benbow»
Squire Trelawney, Dr. Livesey, and the rest of these gentlemen having asked me to write down the whole particulars about Treasure Island, from the beginning to the end, keeping nothing back but the bearings of the island, and that only because there is still treasure not yet lifted, I take up my pen in the year of grace 17… and go back to the time when my father kept the «Admiral Benbow» inn and the brown old seaman with the sabre cut first took up his lodging under our roof.
I remember him as if it were yesterday, as he came plodding to the inn door, his sea-chest following behind him in a hand-barrow – a tall, strong, heavy, nut-brown man, his tarry pigtail falling over the shoulder of his soiled blue coat, his hands ragged and scarred, with black, broken nails, and the sabre cut across one cheek, a dirty, livid white. I remember him looking round the cover and whistling to himself as he did so, and then breaking out in that old sea-song that he sang so often afterwards:
«Fifteen men on the dead man’s chest —
Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!»
in the high, old tottering voice that seemed to have been tuned and broken at the capstan bars.
Then he rapped on the door with a bit of stick like a handspike that he carried, and when my father appeared, called roughly for a glass of rum. This, when it was brought to him, he drank slowly, like a connoisseur, lingering on the taste and still looking about him at the cliffs and up at our signboard.
«This is a handy cove», says he at length; «and a pleasant sittyated grog-shop. Much company, mate?»
My father told him no, very little company, the more was the pity.
«Well, then», said he, «this is the berth for me. Here you, matey», he cried to the man who trundled the barrow; «bring up alongside and help up my chest. I’ll stay here a bit», he continued. «I’m a plain man; rum and bacon and eggs is what I want, and that head up there for to watch ships off. What you mought call me? You mought call me captain. Oh, I see what you’re at – there»; and he threw down three or four gold pieces on the threshold. «You can tell me when I’ve worked through that», says he, looking as fierce as a commander.
And indeed bad as his clothes were and coarsely as he spoke, he had none of the appearance of a man who sailed before the mast, but seemed like a mate or skipper accustomed to be obeyed or to strike. The man who came with the barrow told us the mail had set him down the morning before at the Royal George, that he had inquired what inns there were along the coast, and hearing ours well spoken of, I suppose, and described as lonely, had chosen it from the others for his place of residence. And that was all we could learn of our guest.
He was a very silent man by custom. All day he hung round the cove or upon the cliffs with a brass telescope; all evening he sat in a corner of the parlour next the fire and drank rum and water very strong. Mostly he would not speak when spoken to, only look up sudden and fierce and blow through his nose like a fog-horn; and we and the people who came about our house soon learned to let him be. Every day when he came back from his stroll he would ask if any seafaring men had gone by along the road. At first we thought it was the want of company of his own kind that made him ask this question, but at last we began to see he was desirous to avoid them. When a seaman did put up at the «Admiral Benbow» (as now and then some did, making by the coast road for Bristol) he would look in at him through the curtained door before he entered the parlour; and he was always sure to be as silent as a mouse when any such was present. For me, at least, there was no secret about the matter, for I was, in a way, a sharer in his alarms. He had taken me aside one day and promised me a silver four-penny on the first of every month, if I would only keep my «weather-eye open for a seafaring man with one leg» and let him know the moment he appeared. Often enough when the first of the month came round and I applied to him for my wage, he would only blow through his nose at me and stare me down, but before the week was out he was sure to think better of it, bring me my four-penny piece, and repeat his orders to look out for «the seafaring man with one leg».
How that personage haunted my dreams, I need scarcely tell you.On stormy nights, when the wind shook the four corners of the house and the surf roared along the cove and up the cliffs, I would see him in a thousand forms, and with a thousand diabolical expressions. Now the leg would be cut off at the knee, now at the hip; now he was a monstrous kind of a creature who had never had but the one leg, and that in the middle of his body. To see him leap and run and pursue me over hedge and ditch was the worst of nightmares. And altogether I paid pretty dear for my monthly four-penny piece, in the shape of these abominable fancies.
But though I was so terrified by the idea of the seafaring man with one leg, I was far less afraid of the captain himself than anybody else who knew him. There were nights when he took a deal more rum and water than his head would carry; and then he would sometimes sit and sing his wicked, old, wild sea-songs, minding nobody; but sometimes he would call for glasses round and force all the trembling company to listen to his stories or bear a chorus to his singing. Often I have heard the house shaking with «Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum», all the neighbours joining in for dear life, with the fear of death upon them, and each singing louder than the other to avoid remark. For in these fits he was the most overriding companion ever known; he would slap his hand on the table for silence all round; he would fly up in a passion of anger at a question, or sometimes because none was put, and so he judged the company was not following his story. Nor would he allow anyone to leave the inn till he had drunk himself sleepy and reeled off to bed.
His stories were what frightened people worst of all. Dreadful stories they were – about hanging, and walking the plank, and storms at sea, and the Dry Tortugas, and wild deeds and places on the Spanish Main. By his own account, he must have lived his life among some of the wickedest men that God ever allowed upon the sea. Аnd the language in which he told these stories shocked our plain country people almost as much as the crimes that he described.
My father was always saying the inn would be ruined, for people would soon cease coming there to be tyrannized over and put down, and sent shivering to their beds; but I really believe his presence did us good. People were frightened at the time, but on looking back they rather liked it; it was a fine excitement in a quiet country life. Аnd there was even a party of the younger men who pretended to admire him, calling him a «true sea-dog» and a «real old salt» and such like names, and saying there was the sort of man that made England terrible at sea.
In one way, indeed, he bade fair to ruin us, for he kept on staying week after week, and at last month after month, so that all the money had been long exhausted, and still my father never plucked up the heart to insist on having more. If ever he mentioned it, the captain blew through his nose so loudly that you might say he roared, and stared my poor father out of the room. I have seen him wringing his hands after such a rebuff, and I am sure the annoyance and the terror he lived in must have greatly hastened his early and unhappy death.
All the time he lived with us the captain made no change whatever in his dress, but to buy some stockings from a hawker. One of the cocks of his hat having fallen down, he let it hang from that day forth, though it was a great annoyance when it blew. I remember the appearance of his coat, which he patched himself upstairs in his room, and which, before the end, was nothing but patches. He never wrote or received a letter, and he never spoke with any but the neighbours, and with these, for the most part, only when drunk on rum. The great sea-chest none of us had ever seen open.
He was only once crossed, and that was towards the end, when my poor father was far gone in a decline that took him off.
Dr. Livesey came late one afternoon to see the patient, took a bit of dinner from my mother, and went into the parlour to smoke a pipe until his horse should come down from the hamlet, for we had no stabling at the old «Benbow». I followed him in, and I remember observing the contrast the neat, bright doctor, with his powder as white as snow and his bright, black eyes and pleasant manners, made with the coltish country folk. Аnd above all, with that filthy, heavy, bleared scarecrow of a pirate of ours, sitting, far gone in rum, with his arms on the table. Suddenly he – the captain, that is – began to pipe up his eternal song:
«Fifteen men on the dead man’s chest —
Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!
Drink and the devil had done for the rest —
Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!»
At first I had supposed «the dead man’s chest» to be that identical big box of his upstairs in the front room, and the thought had been mingled in my nighmares with that of the one-legged seafaring man. But by this time we had all long ceased to pay any particular notice to the song; it was new, that night, to nobody, but Dr. Livesey. Аnd on him I observed it did not produce an agreeable effect, for he looked up for a moment quite angrily before he went on with his talk to old Taylor, the gardener, on a new cure for the rheumatics. In the meantime, the captain gradually brightened up at his own music, and at last flapped his hand upon the table before him in a way we all knew to mean silence. The voices stopped at once, all but Dr. Livesey’s; he went on as before speaking clear and kind and drawing briskly at his pipe between every word or two. The captain glared at him for a while, flapped his hand again, glared still harder, and at last broke out with a villainous, low oath, «Silence, there, between decks!»
«Were you addressing me, sir?» says the doctor; and when the ruffian had told him, with another oath, that this was so, «I have only one thing to say to you, sir», replies the doctor, «that if you keep on drinking rum, the world will soon be quit of a very dirty scoundrel!»
The old fellow’s fury was awful. He sprang to his feet, drew and opened a sailor’s clasp-knife, and balancing it open on the palm of his hand, threatened to pin the doctor to the wall.
The doctor never so much as moved. He spoke to him as before, over his shoulder and in the same tone of voice, rather high, so that all the room might hear, but perfectly calm and steady: «If you do not put that knife this instant in your pocket, I promise, upon my honour, you shall hang at the next assizes».
Then followed a battle of looks between them, but the captain soon knuckled under, put up his weapon, and resumed his seat, grumbling like a beaten dog.
«And now, sir», continued the doctor, «since I now know there’s such a fellow in my district, you may count I’ll have an eye upon you day and night. I’m not a doctor only; I’m a magistrate. Аnd if I catch a breath of complaint against you, if it’s only for a piece of incivility like tonight’s, I’ll take effectual means to have you hunted down and routed out of this. Let that suffice».
Soon after, Dr. Livesey’s horse came to the door and he rode away. But the captain held his peace that evening, and for many evenings to come.
1
Старий морський вовк у корчмi «Адмiрал Бенбоу»
Сквайр Трiлонi, доктор Лiвсi та iншi джентльмени попросили мене написати все, що я знаю про Острiв Скарбiв. Вони хочуть, щоб я розповiв усю iсторiю вiд початку до кiнця, не приховуючи нiчого, крiм розташування острова, та й то тiльки тому, що й досi звiдти не вивезли всi скарби. Отже, я беруся за перо цього року Божого 17… i повертаюся думками до тих часiв, коли мiй батько мав корчму «Адмiрал Бенбоу» i коли засмаглий старий моряк зi рубцем вiд шаблi на щоцi оселився пiд нашим дахом.
Я пам’ятаю, нiби все це було тiльки вчора, як вiн пiдiйшов, важко ступаючи, до дверей нашоi корчми, а слiдом за ним везли на тачцi моряцьку скриню. Це був високий, мiцний, огрядний чоловiк з темним, засмаглим обличчям. Засмальцьована косичка стирчала над комiром його брудноi синьоi куртки. Руки в нього були зашкарублi, порiзанi, з чорними поламаними нiгтями, а шабельний рубець на щоцi – бруднувато-бiлявого кольору зi свинцевим вiдтiнком. Пригадую, як вiн окинув поглядом бухту i тихенько свиснув, а потiм раптом затяг давню морську пiсню, яку так часто наспiвував i потiм:
П’ятнадцять хлопцiв на скринi мерця.
Йо-го-го, ще й пляшечка рому!
Голос у нього був старечий, хрипкий, верескливий, немов рипучi важелi кабестана.
Потiм вiн постукав у дверi кiнцем палицi, що скидалася на гандшпуг, i, коли вийшов мiй батько, грубо зажадав вiд нього склянку рому. Йому винесли ром, i вiн почав поволi його пити, як великий знавець, смакуючи кожен ковток i все ще поглядаючи на скелi й на нашу вивiску.
– Бухта нiчогенька, – пробурмотiв вiн нарештi. – Непогане мiсце для шинку. Багато народу, хазяiне?
Батько вiдповiв, що, на жаль, народу тут бувае дуже мало.
– То й добре! – сказав моряк. – Пристань саме для мене. Гей, ти, голубе! – гукнув вiн чоловiковi, який вiз тачку. – Пiд’iжджай сюди, допоможи менi втягти скриню. Я тут затримаюсь трохи, – вiв вiн далi. – Чоловiк я простий. Ром, шинка, яечня – i бiльше менi нiчого не треба. Хiба тiльки ще ота скеля, з якоi видно в морi кораблi… Як мене звати? Ну що ж, зовiть хоч би й капiтаном. Еге, я бачу, що вас турбуе… Маете!
І вiн кинув на порiг три чи чотири золотi монети.
– Коли цi скiнчаться, можете прийти i сказати, – промовив вiн суворо i глянув на батька, як командир на пiдлеглого.
І справдi, хоч одяг у нього був поганенький, а мова дуже брутальна, проте вiн зовсiм не скидався на звичайного матроса. Швидше можна було подумати, що це штурман або шкiпер, який звик командувати й карати непокiрних. Чоловiк з тачкою розповiв нам, що незнайомець прибув поштовим дилiжансом учора вранцi до «Готелю Короля Георга» i розпитував, якi е корчми в околицi. Почувши, мабуть, добрi вiдгуки про нашу корчму й довiдавшись, що вона розташована на вiдлюддi, капiтан обрав саме ii. Оце й усе, що ми змогли дiзнатися про нашого гостя.
То був дуже мовчазний чоловiк. Цiлими днями вiн вештався бiля затоки або здирався на скелi з мiдною пiдзорною трубою. А вечорами сидiв у вiтальнi в кутку бiля вогню, змiшував ром з водою i пив цю мiцну сумiш. Здебiльшого вiн нiчого не вiдповiдав, коли до нього зверталися. Тiльки кине раптом лютий погляд i засопе носом, немов корабельна сирена в туманi. Ми й нашi вiдвiдувачi незабаром навчилися не турбувати його. Щоразу, повернувшися з прогулянки, вiн запитував, чи не з’являлися бiля корчми якiсь моряки. Спочатку ми гадали, що вiн питае про це, шукаючи собi пiдходящоi компанii. Але незабаром помiтили, що вiн, навпаки, стараеться уникати стороннiх. Коли якийсь моряк, пробираючись прибережною дорогою до Бристоля, завертав до «Адмiрала Бенбоу», наш капiтан наважувався вийти до зали, тiльки поглянувши на вiдвiдувача з-пiд завiски на дверях. У присутностi такого гостя вiн завжди сидiв тихенько, наче миша.
Для мене все це не було таемницею, бо я став, так би мовити, спiвучасником його тривог. Якось вiн одвiв мене вбiк i пообiцяв платити менi по чотири срiбних пенси першого числа кожного мiсяця, якщо я «пильнуватиму одноногого моряка» i повiдомлю його, тобто капiтана, вiдразу, як тiльки цей моряк з’явиться поблизу. Коли ж надходило перше число i я звертався до нього по обiцяну винагороду, вiн тiльки сопiв носом i люто поглядав на мене. Але вже до кiнця тижня змiнював свiй гнiв на ласку, приносив менi той чотирипенсовик i повторював наказ «пильнувати одноногого моряка».
Навряд чи треба казати вам, як мучив мою уяву цей одноногий моряк. Уночi пiд час шторму, коли вiтер хитав усi стiни нашого будинку, а прибiй ревiв у затоцi й помiж скель, цей моряк ввижався менi увi снi в тисячах образiв, страшний, мов тисяча дияволiв. Інодi я бачив його з ногою, вiдрiзаною до колiна; iнодi – вiдтятою по самiсiньке стегно. Часто вiн з’являвся передi мною у виглядi моторошноi потвори, що так i народилася з однiею ногою, яка стирчала з середини тулуба. На цiй однiй нозi вiн ганявся за мною, перескакуючи через паркани й рiвчаки. Тож недешево дiставалися менi отi щомiсячнi чотири пенси; я розплачувався за них страхiтливими снами.
Та хоч який страшний був для мене одноногий моряк, самого капiтана я боявся куди менше, нiж усi iншi, хто його знав. Інодi ввечерi вiн випивав рому з водою бiльше, нiж могла витримати його голова. Тодi вiн довго сидiв у корчмi й спiвав своiх давнiх, диких, жорстоких морських пiсень, не звертаючи уваги нi на ко-го з присутнiх. А бувало й так, що вiн замовляв випивку на всiх i примушував наших вiдвiдувачiв, що тремтiли вiд жаху, слухати його розповiдi про морськi пригоди або пiдспiвувати йому гуртом. І дуже часто стiни нашого будинку ходили ходором вiд «Йо-го-го, ще й пляшечка рому», бо всi запрошенi, побоюючись за свое життя, намагалися перекричати один одного i спiвати якнайголоснiше, щоб не навернути на себе гнiв капiтана. А пiд час таких припадкiв капiтан був справдi небезпечним гостем: вiн то грюкав кулаком об стiл, вимагаючи, щоб усi замовкли; то раптом спалахував буйним гнiвом, коли його перебивали, запитуючи про щось; то, навпаки, шаленiв, що нiхто не звертався до нього з питаннями, а це означало, що товариство неуважно його слухае. Вiн не дозволяв нiкому пiти з корчми, аж поки сам не напивався до нестями й не йшов, хитаючись, спати.
Але найбiльше страху нагонили його розповiдi – жахливi розповiдi про шибеницi, про ходiння по дошцi, про шторми на морi, про острови Тортугас, про розбiйницькi гнiзда i розбiйницький розгул в Іспанському морi. За його словами, вiн, мабуть, прожив усе життя серед найзапеклiших негiдникiв, якi будь-коли виходили в море. А лайка, якою вiн пересипав своi розповiдi, лякала наших простодушних сiльських жителiв не менше нiж злочини, якi вiн змальовував.
Мiй батько весь час повторював, що ми розоримося, бо люди незабаром перестануть приходити до нашоi корчми, де з них знущаються i звiдки вони повертаються додому сповненi жаху! Але я певен, що присутнiсть капiтана, навпаки, добре впливала на нашi справи. Правда, вiдвiдувачi лякалися спочатку, та через день iх знову тягло до капiтана. Вiн внiс якесь приемне збудження у тихе, сонливе сiльське життя. Пiдiбралась навiть група юнакiв, якi захоплювалися капiтаном i називали його «справжнiм морським вовком», «наскрiзь просоленим моряком» та iншими такими назвиськами. На iхню думку, саме такi люди зробили Англiю грозою морiв.
Але, з iншого боку, вiн по-справжньому завдавав нам збиткiв. Минав тиждень за тижнем, мiсяць за мiсяцем; грошi, якi вiн у перший день кинув на порiг нашоi корчми, давно вже були витраченi, нових вiн не платив, i в батька не вистачало смiливостi вимагати платню. Коли ж навiть батько i нагадував про це, капiтан починав сопiти так голосно й люто, так гнiвно поглядав на нього, що вiн якомога швидше тiкав з кiмнати. Я бачив, як пiсля таких спроб мiй бiдолашний батько розпачливо заломлював руки. Я певен, що пережитi ним тривоги й страхи дуже прискорили його передчасну смерть.
За весь час, який капiтан жив у нас, вiн анi разу не перемiнив свого одягу, тiльки купив кiлька пар панчiх у вуличного торговця. Один край його трикутного капелюха обвис; капiтан так його й полишив, хоча це й завдавало йому чимало неприемностей у час сильного вiтру. Я добре пам’ятаю, який вигляд мала його куртка, яку вiн сам латав у своiй кiмнатi. Латка там була на латцi.
Вiн нiколи не писав i не одержував нiяких листiв. І нiколи нi з ким не розмовляв, крiм сусiдiв, – та й то здебiльшого тiльки тодi, коли добре випив. Також нiхто нiколи не бачив, щоб вiн хоч раз вiдмикав свою скриню.
Тiльки одного разу капiтановi дали добру вiдсiч, та й то це сталося в останнi днi, коли мiй бiдолашний батько був уже при смертi.
Якось пiзно ввечерi до нас приiхав доктор Лiвсi. Вiн оглянув хворого, нашвидку пообiдав на запрошення моеi матерi й зайшов до загальноi кiмнати викурити люльку, поки йому приведуть коня. Коня залишили в селi, бо в старому «Бенбоу» не було стайнi.
До загальноi кiмнати провiв його я, i пригадую, як вразив мене контраст мiж стриманим, привiтним i веселим лiкарем у снiжно-бiлiй перуцi, зi жвавими чорними очима, та сiльськими гультiпаками, що вiдвiдували нашу корчму. Особливо вражала ця рiзниця, коли глянути на наше опудало – незграбного, брудного, страховидного пiрата, що напився i сидiв, поклавши руки на стiл.
Раптом вiн, тобто капiтан, завiв свою улюблену пiсню:
«П’ятнадцять хлопцiв на скринi мерця.
Йо-го-го, ще й пляшечка рому!
Пий, i диявол тебе приведе до кiнця.
Йо-го-го, ще й пляшечка рому!»
Спочатку менi здавалося, що «скриня мерця» – це i е ота велика скриня, яка стоiть нагорi в кiмнатi капiтана. У моiх кошмарах ця скриня часто з’являлася передi мною разом з одноногим моряком. Але потiм ми всi так звикли до цiеi пiснi, що не звертали на неi нiякоi уваги. Цього вечора вона була новиною лише для доктора Лiвсi i, як я помiтив, справила на нього не дуже приемне враження. Вiн сердито подивився на капiтана, перш нiж продовжити розмову зi старим садiвником Тейлором про новий спосiб лiкування ревматизму. Тим часом капiтан, повеселiлий од своеi власноi пiснi, гримнув кулаком по столу. Ми всi знали, що це означае наказ мовчати. Всi вiдразу принишкли. Всi, крiм доктора Лiвсi. Той продовжував говорити, виразно й м’яко вимовляючи слова й час од часу попихкуючи своею люлькою. Капiтан кинув на нього лютий погляд, знов ударив кулаком, потiм глянув ще лютiше i раптом закричав з брутальною брудною лайкою:
– Тихше, там, на нижнiй палубi!
– Чи не до мене ви звертаетесь, сер? – спитав лiкар.
Нахаба, знову вилаявшись, сказав, що звертаеться саме до нього.
– Тодi я маю сказати вам тiльки одне, сер, – вiдповiв лiкар, – якщо ви не перестанете пиячити, то свiт незабаром звiльниться вiд одного з найбруднiших мерзотникiв.
Лють старого волоцюги була жахливою. Вiн скочив на ноги, вихопив i розкрив моряцького складаного ножа i, розмахуючи ним, погрожував приколоти лiкаря до стiни.
Лiкар навiть не ворухнувся. Вiн, як i перед цим, говорив до капiтана через плече таким же спокiйним тоном, може, трохи голоснiше, щоб усi в кiмнатi могли чути, але цiлком спокiйно:
– Якщо ви зараз же не покладете свого ножа до кишенi, клянусь вам своею честю, що вас повiсять пiсля першоi ж сесii нашого виiзного суду.
Мiж ними почався поединок очима. Але капiтан скоро здався. Вiн сховав зброю, сiв на свое мiсце i тiльки гарчав, мов побитий пес.
– А тепер, добродiю, – вiв далi лiкар, – оскiльки менi стало вiдомо, що в моiй окрузi е такий суб’ект, можете бути певнi, що я стежитиму за вами вдень i вночi. Я не тiльки лiкар, я й мiсцевий суддя. І коли я почую найменшу скаргу на вас, хоч би навiть тiльки на те, що ви нагрубiянили комусь… як-от зараз, я вживу рiшучих заходiв, щоб ви понесли належну кару. Зважте на це.
Невдовзi пiсля цього лiкаревi подали коня i вiн поiхав. Капiтан у цей вечiр був тихим i смирним, i таким вiн уже залишався й в усi наступнi вечори.
2
Black Dog Appears and Disappears
It was not very long after this that there occurred the first of the mysterious events that rid us at last of the captain, though not, as you will see, of his affairs. It was a bitter cold winter, with long, hard frosts and heavy gales; and it was plain from the first that my poor father was little likely to see the spring. He sank daily, and my mother and I had all the inn upon our hands, and were kept busy enough without paying much regard to our unpleasant guest.
It was one January morning, very early – a pinching, frosty morning – the cove all grey with hoar-frost, the ripple lapping softly on the stones, the sun still low and only touching the hilltops and shining far to seaward. The captain had risen earlier than usual and set out down the beach, his cutlass swinging under the broad skirts of the old blue coat, his brass telescope under his arm, his hat tilted back upon his head. I remember his breath hanging like smoke in his wake as he strode off, and the last sound I heard of him as he turned the big rock was a loud snort of indignation, as though his mind was still running upon Dr. Livesey.
Well, mother was upstairs with father and I was laying the breakfast-table against the captain’s return, when the parlour door opened and a man stepped in on whom I had never set my eyes before. He was a pale, tallowy creature, wanting two fingers of the left hand, and though he wore a cutlass, he did not look much like a fighter. I had always my eye open for seafaring men, with one leg or two, and I remember this one puzzled me. He was not sailorly, and yet he had a smack of the sea about him too.
I asked him what was for his service, and he said he would take rum; but as I was going out of the room to fetch it, he sat down upon a table and motioned me to draw near. I paused where I was, with my napkin in my hand.
«Come here, sonny», says he. «Come nearer here».
I took a step nearer.
«Is this here table for my mate Bill?» he asked with a kind of leer.
I told him I did not know his mate Bill, and this was for a person who stayed in our house whom we called the captain.
«Well», said he, «my mate Bill would be called the captain, as like as not. He has a cut on one cheek and a mighty pleasant way with him, particularly in drink, has my mate Bill. We’ll put it, for argument like, that your captain has a cut on one cheek – and we’ll put it, if you like, that that cheek’s the right one. Ah, well! I told you. Now, is my mate Bill in this here house?»
I told him he was out walking.
«Which way, sonny? Which way is he gone?»
And when I had pointed out the rock and told him how the captain was likely to return, and how soon, and answered a few other questions, «Ah», said he, «this’ll be as good as drink to my mate Bill».
The expression of his face as he said these words was not at all pleasant, and I had my own reasons for thinking that the stranger was mistaken, even supposing he meant what he said. But it was no affair of mine, I thought; and besides, it was difficult to know what to do. The stranger kept hanging about just inside the inn door, peering round the corner like a cat waiting for a mouse.
Once I stepped out myself into the road, but he immediately called me back, and as I did not obey quick enough for his fancy, a most horrible change came over his tallowy face, and he ordered me in with an oath that made me jump. As soon as I was back again he returned to his former manner, half fawning, half sneering, patted me on the shoulder, told me I was a good boy and he had taken quite a fancy to me. «I have a son of my own», said he, «as like you as two blocks, and he’s all the pride of my ’art. But the great thing for boys is discipline, sonny – discipline. Now, if you had sailed along of Bill, you wouldn’t have stood there to be spoke to twice – not you. That was never Bill’s way, nor the way of sich as sailed with him. And here, sure enough, is my mate Bill, with a spy-glass under his arm, bless his old ’art, to be sure. You and me’ll just go back into the parlour, sonny, and get behind the door, and we’ll give Bill a little surprise – bless his ’art, I say again».
