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11. What I Heard in the Apple Barrel

O, not I,” said Silver. “Flint was cap’n; I was
quartermaster, along of my timber leg. The same
broadside I lost my leg, old Pew lost his deadlights.
It was a master surgeon, him that ampytated me--out of college
and all--Latin by the bucket, and what not; but he was hanged like
a dog, and sun-dried like the rest, at Corso Castle. That was
Roberts’ men, that was, and comed of changing names to their
ships--Royal Fortune and so on. Now, what a ship was christened,
so let her stay, I says. So it was with the Cassandra, as brought us
all safe home from Malabar, after England took the viceroy of the
Indies; so it was with the old Walrus, Flint’s old ship, as I’ve seen
amuck with the red blood and fit to sink with gold.”

“Ah!” cried another voice, that of the youngest hand on board,
and evidently full of admiration. “He was the flower of the flock,
was Flint!”

“Davis was a man too, by all accounts,” said Silver. “I never
sailed along of him; first with England, then with Flint, that’s my
story; and now here on my own account, in a manner of speaking.
I laid by nine hundred safe, from England, and two thousand after
Flint. That ain’t bad for a man before the mast--all safe in bank.
‘Tain’t earning now, it’s saving does it, you may lay to that.
Where’s all England’s men now? I dunno. Where’s Flint’s? Why,
most on ‘em aboard here, and glad to get the duff--been begging
before that, some on ‘em. Old Pew, as had lost his sight, and might
have thought shame, spends twelve hundred pound in a year, like
a lord in Parliament. Where is he now? Well, he’s dead now and


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