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of his pipe in the palm of his left hand.
“Is that all?” he asked.
“Every last word, by thunder!” answered John. “Refuse that,
and you’ve seen the last of me but musket-balls.”
“Very good,” said the captain. “Now you’ll hear me. If you’ll
come up one by one, unarmed, I’ll engage to clap you all in irons
and take you home to a fair trial in England. If you won’t, my
name is Alexander Smollett, I’ve flown my sovereign’s colours,
and I’ll see you all to Davy Jones. You can’t find the treasure. You
can’t sail the ship--there’s not a man among you fit to sail the ship.
You can’t fight us-- Gray, there, got away from five of you. Your
ship’s in irons, Master Silver; you’re on a lee shore, and so you’ll
find. I stand here and tell you so; and they’re the last good words
you’ll get from me, for in the name of heaven, I’ll put a bullet in
your back when next I meet you. Tramp, my lad. Bundle out of
this, please, hand over hand, and double quick.”
Silver’s face was a picture; his eyes started in his head with
wrath. He shook the fire out of his pipe.
“Give me a hand up!” he cried.
“Not I,” returned the captain.
“Who’ll give me a hand up?” he roared.
Not a man among us moved. Growling the foulest imprecations,
he crawled along the sand till he got hold of the porch and could
hoist himself again upon his crutch. Then he spat into the spring.
“There!” he cried. “That’s what I think of ye. Before an hour’s
out, I’ll stove in your old block house like a rum puncheon. Laugh,
by thunder, laugh! Before an hour’s out, ye’ll laugh upon the other
side. Them that die’ll be the lucky ones.”
And with a dreadful oath he stumbled off, ploughed down the