Chapter 13

How My Shore Adventure Began

THE appearance of the island when I came on

deck next morning was altogether changed.

Although the breeze had now utterly ceased,

we had made a great deal of way during the

night and were now lying becalmed about

half a mile to the south-east of the low

eastern coast.

Grey-coloured woods covered a large part of

the surface.

This even tint was indeed broken up by

streaks of yellow sand-break in the lower

lands, and by many tall trees of the pine

family, out-topping the others--some

singly, some in clumps; but the general

colouring was uniform and sad.

The hills ran up clear above the vegetation

in spires of naked rock.

All were strangely shaped, and the Spy-

glass, which was by three or four hundred

feet the tallest on the island, was

likewise the strangest in configuration,

running up sheer from almost every side and

then suddenly cut off at the top like a

pedestal to put a statue on.

The HISPANIOLA was rolling scuppers under

in the ocean swell.

The booms were tearing at the blocks, the

rudder was banging to and fro, and the

whole ship creaking, groaning, and jumping

like a manufactory.

I had to cling tight to the backstay, and

the world turned giddily before my eyes,

for though I was a good enough sailor when

there was way on, this standing still and

being rolled about like a bottle was a

thing I never learned to stand without a

qualm or so, above all in the morning, on

an empty stomach.

Perhaps it was this--perhaps it was the

look of the island, with its grey,

melancholy woods, and wild stone spires,

and the surf that we could both see and

hear foaming and thundering on the steep

beach--at least, although the sun shone

bright and hot, and the shore birds were

fishing and crying all around us, and you

would have thought anyone would have been

glad to get to land after being so long at

sea, my heart sank, as the saying is, into

my boots; and from the first look onward, I

hated the very thought of Treasure Island.

We had a dreary morning's work before us,

for there was no sign of any wind, and the

boats had to be got out and manned, and the

ship warped three or four miles round the

corner of the island and up the narrow

passage to the haven behind Skeleton

Island.

I volunteered for one of the boats, where I

had, of course, no business.

The heat was sweltering, and the men

grumbled fiercely over their work.

Anderson was in command of my boat, and

instead of keeping the crew in order, he

grumbled as loud as the worst.

"Well," he said with an oath, "it's not

forever."

I thought this was a very bad sign, for up

to that day the men had gone briskly and

willingly about their business; but the

very sight of the island had relaxed the

cords of discipline.

All the way in, Long John stood by the

steersman and conned the ship.

He knew the passage like the palm of his

hand, and though the man in the chains got

everywhere more water than was down in the

chart, John never hesitated once.

"There's a strong scour with the ebb," he

said, "and this here passage has been dug

out, in a manner of speaking, with a

spade."

We brought up just where the anchor was in

the chart, about a third of a mile from

each shore, the mainland on one side and

Skeleton Island on the other.

The bottom was clean sand.

The plunge of our anchor sent up clouds of

birds wheeling and crying over the woods,

but in less than a minute they were down

again and all was once more silent.

The place was entirely land-locked, buried

in woods, the trees coming right down to

high-water mark, the shores mostly flat,

and the hilltops standing round at a

distance in a sort of amphitheatre, one

here, one there.

Two little rivers, or rather two swamps,

emptied out into this pond, as you might

call it; and the foliage round that part of

the shore had a kind of poisonous

brightness.

From the ship we could see nothing of the

house or stockade, for they were quite

buried among trees; and if it had not been

for the chart on the companion, we might

have been the first that had ever anchored

there since the island arose out of the

seas.

There was not a breath of air moving, nor a

sound but that of the surf booming half a

mile away along the beaches and against the

rocks outside.

A peculiar stagnant smell hung over the

anchorage--a smell of sodden leaves and

rotting tree trunks.

I observed the doctor sniffing and

sniffing, like someone tasting a bad egg.

"I don't know about treasure," he said,

"but I'll stake my wig there's fever here."

If the conduct of the men had been alarming

in the boat, it became truly threatening

when they had come aboard.

They lay about the deck growling together

in talk.

The slightest order was received with a

black look and grudgingly and carelessly

obeyed.

Even the honest hands must have caught the

infection, for there was not one man aboard

to mend another.

Mutiny, it was plain, hung over us like a

thunder-cloud.

And it was not only we of the cabin party

who perceived the danger.

Long John was hard at work going from group

to group, spending himself in good advice,

and as for example no man could have shown

a better.

He fairly outstripped himself in

willingness and civility; he was all smiles

to everyone.

If an order were given, John would be on

his crutch in an instant, with the

cheeriest "Aye, aye, sir!" in the world;

and when there was nothing else to do, he

kept up one song after another, as if to

conceal the discontent of the rest.

Of all the gloomy features of that gloomy

afternoon, this obvious anxiety on the part

of Long John appeared the worst.

We held a council in the cabin.

"Sir," said the captain, "if I risk another

order, the whole ship'll come about our

ears by the run.

You see, sir, here it is.

I get a rough answer, do I not?

Well, if I speak back, pikes will be going

in two shakes; if I don't, Silver will see

there's something under that, and the

game's up.

Now, we've only one man to rely on."

"And who is that?" asked the squire.

"Silver, sir," returned the captain; "he's

as anxious as you and I to smother things

up.

This is a tiff; he'd soon talk 'em out of

it if he had the chance, and what I propose

to do is to give him the chance.

Let's allow the men an afternoon ashore.