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PinkMonkey.com-Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson


It was around about the size of a crown piece. One side was
blank, for it had been the last leaf; the other contained a verse or
two of Revelation--these words among the rest, which struck
sharply home upon my mind: “Without are dogs and murderers.”
The printed side had been blackened with wood ash, which
already began to come off and soil my fingers; on the blank side
had been written with the same material the one word
“Depposed.” I have that curiosity beside me at this moment, but
not a trace of writing now remains beyond a single scratch, such
as a man might make with his thumb-nail.

That was the end of the night’s business. Soon after, with a
drink all round, we lay down to sleep, and the outside of Silver’s
vengeance was to put George Merry up for sentinel and threaten
him with death if he should prove unfaithful.

It was long ere I could close an eye, and heaven knows I had
matter enough for thought in the man whom I had slain that
afternoon, in my own most perilous position, and above all, in the
remarkable game that I saw Silver now engaged upon--keeping
the mutineers together with one hand and grasping with the other
after every means, possible and impossible, to make his peace and
save his miserable life. He himself slept peacefully and snored
aloud, yet my heart was sore for him, wicked as he was, to think on
the dark perils that environed and the shameful gibbet that
awaited him.


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PinkMonkey.com-Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson



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