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share in the reward.
“Come in, Jim,” said the captain. “You’re a good boy in your
line, Jim, but I don’t think you and me’ll go to sea again. You’re
too much of the born favourite for me. Is that you, John Silver?
What brings you here, man?”
“Come back to my dooty, sir,” returned Silver.
“Ah!” said the captain, and that was all he said.
What a supper I had of it that night, with all my friends around
me; and what a meal it was, with Ben Gunn’s salted goat and some
delicacies and a bottle of old wine from the Hispaniola. Never, I
am sure, were people gayer or happier. And there was Silver,
sitting back almost out of the firelight, but eating heartily, prompt
to spring forward when anything was wanted, even joining quietly
in our laughter--the same bland, polite, obsequious seaman of the