Flint and Silver: A Prequel to Treasure Island

Chapter 54

Silver was getting about more easily. The carpenter had fixed a disc of wood round the bottom of his crutch so the staff stuck out an inch for use on firm ground, while the disc stopped it digging too far into sand, or the soft, boggy ground of the jungle or marshes. Now he was taking stock of the island, and was up on its highest point, for a good view. But the view wasn't good. Not at present. And neither was the air as fresh as usual, not with the hot sun and the present company.

"Who'd this be then?" said Silver, looking down at the bloated, maggot-wriggling corpse lying stretched out under a nutmeg tree. "Jimmie Cameron, wouldn't you say?"

"Aye, Cap'n," said Israel Hands. "And Franky Skillit's over there, with his arse as bald as his head and a pistol ball in his belly. It must be him, 'cos he's the only one of the lucky six as shaved his noggin."

The parrot squawked and rubbed its head against Silver's.

"Ah, my pretty," said Silver, and tickled its feathers, "you've seen a deal of wickedness in your time, ain't you now? And I don't doubt you could tell how these poor sailormen came to die." The parrot bobbed its head, and gently nipped Silver's ear. It had taken to him at once. Its wounds hadn't been serious. It had been tired mainly: tired in body and in spirit, that was all. In a couple of days it was flying again, and had hopped on to Silver's shoulder as if it were the natural thing to do. Silver was the one who'd been feeding it, after all.

"That makes four of 'em, Cap'n," said Israel Hands, "what with Peter Evans on the beach, and Iain Fraser over there — " he pointed towards Flint's great rock. "D'you think it was Flint what done for 'em?"

"Well it weren't their mothers!"

"And what about Rob Taylor and Henry Howard?"

"He'll have done for them too, somewhere… Ugh! It stinks up here. Come on, Mr Gunner, let's go below." He set off, and then stopped as a thought came to him.

"Israel, old shipmate," he said, "don't you wonder what'd have happened if you and Blind Pew and Sarney Sawyer had tipped me the black spot that night aboard Lion? Maybe you'd have made your peace with Flint and had a ship under your feet this very minute."

"No, Cap'n," said Israel Hands. "No/" He said it vehemently, as if he'd been accused of a foul deed. "We wasn't coming with no black spot! Not us, Cap'n! We was coming to say we was all with you. We'd talked it over, and we'd decided we should've voted with you on the burying of the goods. Flint gave the game away on the island when he said Walrus and Lion was each to fire into the other, should either try to go ashore. The bugger was setting us against one another! You was right all along, and we was come to say we was sorry."

"What?"

"Aye, Cap'n! There weren't a man aboard then, nor ain't there a man on this island now, as wouldn't follow wheresoever you lead, and I take my affy davy on it!"

John Silver had to take a hard grip on his emotions to avoid giving way like a woman. He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth.

He sighed, and rubbed his eyes, and smiled at Israel Hands. There was much to do in this vile place, for never doubt that Flint would be back, and back with plenty of men, just as soon as he could contrive. And there was still the awful fear for Selena, and the thought that he might not see her again. But Long John Silver could face up to that, as long as he had a good crew behind him.

He turned and led the way down the goat track. He was quick and nimble on stony ground like this, and he was head and shoulders taller than any other man. He wore his scorched blue coat with the big brass buttons, and under his hat was a red silk handkerchief bound round his head as a sweat- band. There were two pistols in his belt and a cutlass at his side, and the green parrot was perched firmly on his shoulder.

"Come on, Mr Hands," he said, "there's work to do!"