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| Home | Reading Room TREASURE ISLAND

by Robert Louis Stevenson

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Israel Hands



THE wind, serving us to a desire, now hauled into the west.


We could run so much the easier from the north-east corner


of the island to the mouth of the North Inlet. Only, as we had


no power to anchor and dared not beach her till the tide


had flowed a good deal farther, time hung on our hands.


The coxswain told me how to lay the ship to; after a good many


trials I succeeded, and we both sat in silence over another meal.




"Cap'n," said he at length with that same uncomfortable smile,


"here's my old shipmate, O'Brien; s'pose you was to heave him


overboard. I ain't partic'lar as a rule, and I don't take no blame


for settling his hash, but I don't reckon him ornamental now,


do you?"




"I'm not strong enough, and I don't like the job; and there he lies,


for me," said I.




"This here's an unlucky ship, this HISPANIOLA, Jim,"


he went on, blinking. "There's a power of men been killed


in this HISPANIOLA --a sight o' poor seamen dead and gone


since you and me took ship to Bristol. I never seen sich dirty luck,


not I. There was this here O'Brien now--he's dead, ain't he?


Well now, I'm no scholar, and you're a lad as can read and figure,


and to put it straight, do you take it as a dead man is dead for good,


or do he come alive again?"




"You can kill the body, Mr. Hands, but not the spirit;


you must know that already," I replied.


"O'Brien there is in another world, and may be watching us."




"Ah!" says he. "Well, that's unfort'nate--appears as if killing parties


was a waste of time. Howsomever, sperrits don't reckon for much,


by what I've seen. I'll chance it with the sperrits, Jim. And now,


you've spoke up free, and I'll take it kind if you'd step down


into that there cabin and get me a--well, a--shiver my timbers!


I can't hit the name on 't; well, you get me a bottle of wine, Jim--


this here brandy's too strong for my head."




Now, the coxswain's hesitation seemed to be unnatural,


and as for the notion of his preferring wine to brandy,


I entirely disbelieved it. The whole story was a pretext.


He wanted me to leave the deck--so much was plain;


but with what purpose I could in no way imagine.


His eyes never met mine; they kept wandering to and fro,


up and down, now with a look to the sky, now with a flitting


glance upon the dead O'Brien. All the time he kept smiling


and putting his tongue out in the most guilty, embarrassed manner,


so that a child could have told that he was bent on some deception.


I was prompt with my answer, however, for I saw where my


advantage lay and that with a fellow so densely stupid


I could easily conceal my suspicions to the end.




"Some wine?" I said. "Far better. Will you have white or red?"




"Well, I reckon it's about the blessed same to me, shipmate,"


he replied; "so it's strong, and plenty of it, what's the odds?"




"All right," I answered. "I'll bring you port, Mr. Hands.


But I'll have to dig for it."




With that I scuttled down the companion with all the noise I could,


slipped off my shoes, ran quietly along the sparred gallery,


mounted the forecastle ladder, and popped my head out of the fore


companion. I knew he would not expect to see me there,


yet I took every precaution possible, and certainly the worst


of my suspicions proved too true.




He had risen from his position to his hands and knees,


and though his leg obviously hurt him pretty sharply when he


moved--for I could hear him stifle a groan-- yet it was at a good,


rattling rate that he trailed himself across the deck. In half a minute


he had reached the port scuppers and picked, out of a coil of rope,


a long knife, or rather a short dirk, discoloured to the hilt


with blood. He looked upon it for a moment, thrusting forth


his under jaw, tried the point upon his hand, and then, hastily


concealing it in the bosom of his jacket, trundled back again


into his old place against the bulwark.




This was all that I required to know. Israel could move about,


he was now armed, and if he had been at so much trouble


to get rid of me, it was plain that I was meant to be the victim.


What he would do afterwards-- whether he would try to crawl


right across the island from North Inlet to the camp among


the swamps or whether he would fire Long Tom, trusting that his


own comrades might come first to help him--was, of course,


more than I could say.




Yet I felt sure that I could trust him in one point, since in that


our interests jumped together, and that was in the disposition


of the schooner. We both desired to have her stranded safe enough,


in a sheltered place, and so that, when the time came, she could be


got off again with as little labour and danger as might be;


and until that was done I considered that my life would certainly


be spared.




While I was thus turning the business over in my mind,


I had not been idle with my body. I had stolen back to the cabin,


slipped once more into my shoes, and laid my hand at random


on a bottle of wine, and now, with this for an excuse, I made


my reappearance on the deck.




Hands lay as I had left him, all fallen together in a bundle


and with his eyelids lowered as though he were too weak


to bear the light. He looked up, however, at my coming,


knocked the neck off the bottle like a man who had done


the same thing often, and took a good swig, with his favourite toast


of "Here's luck!" Then he lay quiet for a little, and then,


pulling out a stick of tobacco, begged me to cut him a quid.




"Cut me a junk o' that," says he, "for I haven't no knife


and hardly strength enough, so be as I had. Ah, Jim, Jim,


I reckon I've missed stays! Cut me a quid, as'll likely be the last,


lad, for I'm for my long home, and no mistake."




"Well," said I, "I'll cut you some tobacco, but if I was you


and thought myself so badly, I would go to my prayers


like a Christian man."




"Why?" said he. "Now, you tell me why."




"Why?" I cried. "You were asking me just now about the dead.


You've broken your trust; you've lived in sin and lies and blood;


there's a man you killed lying at your feet this moment,


and you ask me why! For God's mercy, Mr. Hands, that's why."




I spoke with a little heat, thinking of the bloody dirk


he had hidden in his pocket and designed, in his ill thoughts,


to end me with. He, for his part, took a great draught of the wine


and spoke with the most unusual solemnity.




"For thirty years," he said, "I've sailed the seas


and seen good and bad, better and worse, fair weather and foul,


provisions running out, knives going, and what not.


Well, now I tell you, I never seen good come o' goodness yet.


Him as strikes first is my fancy; dead men don't bite;


them's my views--amen, so be it. And now, you look here,"


he added, suddenly changing his tone, "we've had about enough


of this foolery. The tide's made good enough by now.


You just take my orders, Cap'n Hawkins, and we'll sail slap in


and be done with it."




All told, we had scarce two miles to run; but the navigation


was delicate, the entrance to this northern anchorage was not only


narrow and shoal, but lay east and west, so that the schooner


must be nicely handled to be got in. I think I was a good, prompt


subaltern, and I am very sure that Hands was an excellent pilot,


for we went about and about and dodged in, shaving the banks,


with a certainty and a neatness that were a pleasure to behold.




Scarcely had we passed the heads before the land closed around us.


The shores of North Inlet were as thickly wooded as those


of the southern anchorage, but the space was longer and narrower


and more like, what in truth it was, the estuary of a river.


Right before us, at the southern end, we saw the wreck of a ship


in the last stages of dilapidation. It had been a great vessel of three


masts but had lain so long exposed to the injuries of the weather


that it was hung about with great webs of dripping seaweed, and


on the deck of it shore bushes had taken root and now flourished


thick with flowers. It was a sad sight, but it showed us that the


anchorage was calm.




"Now," said Hands, "look there; there's a pet bit for to beach


a ship in. Fine flat sand, never a cat's paw, trees all around of it,


and flowers a-blowing like a garding on that old ship."




"And once beached," I inquired, "how shall we get her off again?"




"Why, so," he replied: "you take a line ashore there on the other


side at low water, take a turn about one of them big pines;


bring it back, take a turn around the capstan, and lie to for the tide.


Come high water, all hands take a pull upon the line,


and off she comes as sweet as natur'. And now, boy, you stand by.


We're near the bit now, and she's too much way on her.


Starboard a little--so--steady--starboard--larboard a little--






So he issued his commands, which I breathlessly obeyed,


till, all of a sudden, he cried, "Now, my hearty, luff!"


And I put the helm hard up, and the HISPANIOLA swung round


rapidly and ran stem on for the low, wooded shore.




The excitement of these last manoeuvres had somewhat


interfered with the watch I had kept hitherto, sharply enough,


upon the coxswain. Even then I was still so much interested,


waiting for the ship to touch, that I had quite forgot the peril


that hung over my head and stood craning over the starboard


bulwarks and watching the ripples spreading wide before the bows.


I might have fallen without a struggle for my life had not a


sudden disquietude seized upon me and made me turn my head.


Perhaps I had heard a creak or seen his shadow moving


with the tail of my eye; perhaps it was an instinct like a cat's;


but, sure enough, when I looked round, there was Hands,


already half-way towards me, with the dirk in his right hand.




We must both have cried out aloud when our eyes met,


but while mine was the shrill cry of terror, his was a roar of fury


like a charging bully's. At the same instant, he threw himself


forward and I leapt sideways towards the bows. As I did so,


I let go of the tiller, which sprang sharp to leeward,


and I think this saved my life, for it struck Hands across the chest


and stopped him, for the moment, dead.




Before he could recover, I was safe out of the corner


where he had me trapped, with all the deck to dodge about.


Just forward of the main-mast I stopped, drew a pistol


from my pocket, took a cool aim, though he had already turned


and was once more coming directly after me, and drew the trigger.


The hammer fell, but there followed neither flash nor sound;


the priming was useless with sea-water. I cursed myself


for my neglect. Why had not I, long before, reprimed and reloaded


my only weapons? Then I should not have been as now,


a mere fleeing sheep before this butcher.




Wounded as he was, it was wonderful how fast he could move,


his grizzled hair tumbling over his face, and his face itself


as red as a red ensign with his haste and fury. I had no time to try


my other pistol, nor indeed much inclination, for I was sure


it would be useless. One thing I saw plainly: I must not


simply retreat before him, or he would speedily hold me


boxed into the bows, as a moment since he had so nearly


boxed me in the stern. Once so caught, and nine or ten inches


of the blood-stained dirk would be my last experience on this side


of eternity. I placed my palms against the main-mast, which was


of a goodish bigness, and waited, every nerve upon the stretch.




Seeing that I meant to dodge, he also paused; and a moment


or two passed in feints on his part and corresponding movements


upon mine. It was such a game as I had often played at home


about the rocks of Black Hill Cove, but never before,


you may be sure, with such a wildly beating heart as now.


Still, as I say, it was a boy's game, and I thought I could


hold my own at it against an elderly seaman with a wounded thigh.


Indeed my courage had begun to rise so high that I allowed myself


a few darting thoughts on what would be the end of the affair,


and while I saw certainly that I could spin it out for long,


I saw no hope of any ultimate escape.




Well, while things stood thus, suddenly the HISPANIOLA struck,


staggered, ground for an instant in the sand, and then,


swift as a blow, canted over to the port side till the deck stood


at an angle of forty-five degrees and about a puncheon of water


splashed into the scupper holes and lay, in a pool, between the


deck and bulwark.




We were both of us capsized in a second, and both of us rolled,


almost together, into the scuppers, the dead red-cap, with his arms


still spread out, tumbling stiffly after us. So near were we, indeed,


that my head came against the coxswain's foot with a crack


that made my teeth rattle. Blow and all, I was the first afoot again,


for Hands had got involved with the dead body. The sudden


canting of the ship had made the deck no place for running on;


I had to find some new way of escape, and that upon the instant,


for my foe was almost touching me. Quick as thought, I sprang


into the mizzen shrouds, rattled up hand over hand, and did not


draw a breath till I was seated on the cross-trees.




I had been saved by being prompt; the dirk had struck


not half a foot below me as I pursued my upward flight;


and there stood Israel Hands with his mouth open and his face


upturned to mine, a perfect statue of surprise and disappointment.




Now that I had a moment to myself, I lost no time in changing


the priming of my pistol, and then, having one ready for service,


and to make assurance doubly sure, I proceeded to draw the load


of the other and recharge it afresh from the beginning.




My new employment struck Hands all of a heap; he began to see


the dice going against him, and after an obvious hesitation,


he also hauled himself heavily into the shrouds, and with the dirk


in his teeth, began slowly and painfully to mount. It cost him


no end of time and groans to haul his wounded leg behind him,


and I had quietly finished my arrangements before he was much


more than a third of the way up. Then, with a pistol in either hand,


I addressed him.




"One more step, Mr. Hands," said I, "and I'll blow your brains out!


Dead men don't bite, you know," I added with a chuckle.




He stopped instantly. I could see by the working of his face


that he was trying to think, and the process was so slow and


laborious that, in my new-found security, I laughed aloud.


At last, with a swallow or two, he spoke, his face still wearing


the same expression of extreme perplexity. In order to speak


he had to take the dagger from his mouth, but in all else


he remained unmoved.




"Jim," says he, "I reckon we're fouled, you and me, and we'll have


to sign articles. I'd have had you but for that there lurch,


but I don't have no luck, not I; and I reckon I'll have to strike,


which comes hard, you see, for a master mariner to a ship's


younker like you, Jim."




I was drinking in his words and smiling away, as conceited as


a cock upon a wall, when, all in a breath, back went his right hand


over his shoulder. Something sang like an arrow through the air;


I felt a blow and then a sharp pang, and there I was pinned


by the shoulder to the mast. In the horrid pain and surprise


of the moment--I scarce can say it was by my own volition,


and I am sure it was without a conscious aim--both my pistols


went off, and both escaped out of my hands. They did not fall


alone; with a choked cry, the coxswain loosed his grasp


upon the shrouds and plunged head first into the water.



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