8

At the Sign of the Spy-glass

WHEN I had done breakfasting the squire gave me a note
addressed to John Silver, at the sign of the Spy-glass,
and told me I should easily find the place by following
the line of the docks and keeping a bright lookout for a
little tavern with a large brass telescope for sign. I set
off, overjoyed at this opportunity to see some more of the
ships and seamen, and picked my way among a great crowd of
people and carts and bales, for the dock was now at its
busiest, 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 red
curtains; the floor was cleanly sanded. There was a
street on each side and an open door on both, which
made the large, low room pretty clear to see in, in
spite of clouds of tobacco smoke.

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

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

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

I plucked up courage at once, crossed the threshold,
and walked right up to the man where he stood, propped
on 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. And
who 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. "I
see. 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 rose
suddenly and made for the door. It was close by him,
and he was out in the street in a moment. But his
hurry had attracted my notice, and I recognized him at
glance. It was the tallow-faced man, wanting two
fingers, 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. "But
he hasn't paid his score. Harry, run and catch him."

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

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

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

"So?" cried Silver. "In my house! Ben, run and help
Harry. One of those swabs, was he? Was that you
drinking 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 never
clapped your eyes on that Black--Black Dog before, did
you, 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 with
the like of that, you would never have put another foot
in my house, you may lay to that. And what was he
saying to you?"

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

"Do you call that a head on your shoulders, or a blessed
dead-eye?" cried Long John. "Don't rightly know, don't
you! Perhaps you don't happen to rightly know who you was
speaking 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 place
for a lubber, Tom."

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

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

"It was!" cried Silver, now quite excited. "Pew! That
were his name for certain. Ah, he looked a shark, he
did! If we run down this Black Dog, now, there'll be
news for Cap'n Trelawney! Ben's a good runner; few
seamen 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 was
stumping up and down the tavern on his crutch, slapping
tables with his hand, and giving such a show of
excitement as would have convinced an Old Bailey judge
or a Bow Street runner. My suspicions had been
thoroughly reawakened on finding Black Dog at the Spy-
glass, and I watched the cook narrowly. But he was too
deep, and too ready, and too clever for me, and by the
time the two men had come back out of breath and
confessed that they had lost the track in a crowd, and
been scolded like thieves, I would have gone bail for
the innocence of Long John Silver.

"See here, now, Hawkins," said he, "here's a blessed
hard thing on a man like me, now, ain't it? There's
Cap'n Trelawney--what's he to think? Here I have this
confounded son of a Dutchman sitting in my own house
drinking of my own rum! Here you comes and tells me of
it plain; and here I let him give us all the slip
before my blessed deadlights! Now, Hawkins, you do me
justice with the cap'n. You're a lad, you are, but
you're as smart as paint. I see that when you first
come in. Now, here it is: What could I do, with this
old timber I hobble on? When I was an A B master
mariner I'd have come up alongside of him, hand over
hand, and broached him to in a brace of old shakes, I
would; but now--"

And then, all of a sudden, he stopped, and his jaw
dropped 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 down
his 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 at
last, wiping his cheeks. "You and me should get on
well, Hawkins, for I'll take my davy I should be rated
ship's boy. But come now, stand by to go about. This
won't do. Dooty is dooty, messmates. I'll put on my
old cockerel hat, and step along of you to Cap'n
Trelawney, and report this here affair. For mind you,
it's serious, young Hawkins; and neither you nor me's
come out of it with what I should make so bold as to
call 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, that
though I did not see the joke as he did, I was again
obliged to join him in his mirth.

On our little walk along the quays, he made himself the
most interesting companion, telling me about the
different ships that we passed by, their rig, tonnage,
and nationality, explaining the work that was going
forward--how one was discharging, another taking in
cargo, and a third making ready for sea--and every now
and then telling me some little anecdote of ships or
seamen or repeating a nautical phrase till I had
learned it perfectly. I began to see that here was one
of the best of possible shipmates.

When we got to the inn, the squire and Dr. Livesey were
seated together, finishing a quart of ale with a toast
in it, before they should go aboard the schooner on a
visit of inspection.

Long John told the story from first to last, with a
great deal of spirit and the most perfect truth. "That
was how it were, now, weren't it, Hawkins?" he would
say, now and again, and I could always bear him
entirely out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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