PART TWO: The Sea-cook
Chapter 8: At the Sign of the Spy-glass
(continued)
"It was!" cried Silver, now quite excited. "Pew! That
were his name for certain. Ah, he looked a shark, he
did! If we run down this Black Dog, now, there'll be
news for Cap'n Trelawney! Ben's a good runner; few
seamen run better than Ben. He should run him down,
hand over hand, by the powers! He talked o' keel-hauling,
did he? I'LL keel-haul him!"
All the time he was jerking out these phrases he was
stumping up and down the tavern on his crutch, slapping
tables with his hand, and giving such a show of
excitement as would have convinced an Old Bailey judge
or a Bow Street runner. My suspicions had been
thoroughly reawakened on finding Black Dog at the Spy-glass,
and I watched the cook narrowly. But he was too
deep, and too ready, and too clever for me, and by the
time the two men had come back out of breath and
confessed that they had lost the track in a crowd, and
been scolded like thieves, I would have gone bail for
the innocence of Long John Silver.
"See here, now, Hawkins," said he, "here's a blessed
hard thing on a man like me, now, ain't it? There's
Cap'n Trelawney--what's he to think? Here I have this
confounded son of a Dutchman sitting in my own house
drinking of my own rum! Here you comes and tells me of
it plain; and here I let him give us all the slip
before my blessed deadlights! Now, Hawkins, you do me
justice with the cap'n. You're a lad, you are, but
you're as smart as paint. I see that when you first
come in. Now, here it is: What could I do, with this
old timber I hobble on? When I was an A B master
mariner I'd have come up alongside of him, hand over
hand, and broached him to in a brace of old shakes, I
would; but now--"
And then, all of a sudden, he stopped, and his jaw
dropped as though he had remembered something.
"The score!" he burst out. "Three goes o' rum! Why,
shiver my timbers, if I hadn't forgotten my score!"
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