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Livesey. “Spoil forecastle hands, make devils. That’s my belief.”
But good did come of the apple barrel, as you shall hear, for if it
had not been for that, we should have had no note of warning and
might all have perished by the hand of treachery.
This was how it came about.
We had run up the trades to get the wind of the island we were
after--I am not allowed to be more plain--and now we were
running down for it with a bright lookout day and night. It was
about the last day of our outward voyage by the largest
computation; some time that night, or at latest before noon of the
morrow, we should sight the Treasure Island. We were heading
S.S.W. and had a steady breeze abeam and a quiet sea. The
Hispaniola rolled steadily, dipping her bowsprit now and then
with a whiff of spray. All was drawing alow and aloft; everyone
was in the bravest spirits because we were now so near an end of
the first part of our adventure.
Now, just after sundown, when all my work was over and I was
on my way to my berth, it occurred to me that I should like an
apple. I ran on deck. The watch was all forward looking out for the
island. The man at the helm was watching the luff of the sail and
whistling away gently to himself, and that was the only sound
excepting the swish of the sea against the bows and around the
sides of the ship.
In I got bodily into the apple barrel, and found there was scarce
an apple left; but sitting down there in the dark, what with the
sound of the waters and the rocking movement of the ship, I had
either fallen asleep or was on the point of doing so when a heavy
man sat down with rather a clash close by. The barrel shook as he
leaned his shoulders against it, and I was just about to jump up