PART SIX: Captain Silver
Chapter 30: On Parole
(continued)
"That comes--as you call it--of being arrant asses,"
retorted the doctor, "and not having sense enough to
know honest air from poison, and the dry land from a
vile, pestiferous slough. I think it most probable--
though of course it's only an opinion--that you'll all
have the deuce to pay before you get that malaria out
of your systems. Camp in a bog, would you? Silver,
I'm surprised at you. You're less of a fool than many,
take you all round; but you don't appear to me to have
the rudiments of a notion of the rules of health.
"Well," he added after he had dosed them round and they
had taken his prescriptions, with really laughable humility,
more like charity schoolchildren than blood-guilty mutineers
and pirates--"well, that's done for today. And now I should
wish to have a talk with that boy, please."
And he nodded his head in my direction carelessly.
George Merry was at the door, spitting and spluttering
over some bad-tasted medicine; but at the first word of
the doctor's proposal he swung round with a deep flush
and cried "No!" and swore.
Silver struck the barrel with his open hand.
"Si-lence!" he roared and looked about him positively
like a lion. "Doctor," he went on in his usual tones,
"I was a-thinking of that, knowing as how you had a
fancy for the boy. We're all humbly grateful for your
kindness, and as you see, puts faith in you and takes
the drugs down like that much grog. And I take it I've
found a way as'll suit all. Hawkins, will you give me
your word of honour as a young gentleman--for a young
gentleman you are, although poor born--your word of
honour not to slip your cable?"
I readily gave the pledge required.
"Then, doctor," said Silver, "you just step outside o'
that stockade, and once you're there I'll bring the boy
down on the inside, and I reckon you can yarn through
the spars. Good day to you, sir, and all our dooties
to the squire and Cap'n Smollett."
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