Robert Louis Stevenson

Treasure Island Robert Louis Stevenson

I remember him as if it were yesterday, as he came plodding to the inn door, his sea-chestfollowing behind him in a hand-barrow-a tall, strong, heavy, nut-brown man, his tarry pigtailfalling over the shoulder of his soiled blue coat, his hands ragged and scarred, with black, brokennails, and the sabre cut across one cheek, a dirty, livid white. I remember him looking round thecove and whistling to himself as he did so, and then breaking out in that old sea-song that he sang sooften 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 fatherappeared, called roughly for a glass of rum. This, when it was brought to him, he drank slowly, like aconnoisseur, 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 whotrundled 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 shipsoff. What you mought call me? You mought call me captain. Oh, I see what you're at-there"; andhe threw down three or four gold pieces on the threshold. "You can tell me when I've workedthrough that," says he, looking as fierce as a commande