Part 1.
The Old Buccaneer Chapter 1.
The Old Sea Dog at the Admiral Binbow.
A great number of people have asked me to write down the whole story of Treasure Island, and that I shall do.
But I will leave out the location of the island because the treasure is still out there.
The story begins back when my father was running an inn called the Admiral Benbow.
The night was bitter and we could hear a howling wind outside when the old seaman with a scarred face first made his way through our door.
In he blew. a strange sight with his sea chest being dragged behind him in a wheelbarrow.
He was strong and tall, with nut-brown skin and a blackened pigtail hanging over a dirty blue coat.
In fact, everything about him looked dirty, including his hands and nails.
The whiteness of the scar that spread across his cheek stood out against his grimy skin.
He whistled and sang a song I would hear many times.
Fifteen men on a dead man's chest, yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum.
After the man wrapped his heavy stick on the floor, my father appeared.
Our guest seemed not to notice him at first.
So busy was he looking around our inn.
"'A handy cove,' he said.
"'And convenient, too.
Been busy lately, have you?'
"'No,' my father answered.
And that was the truth.
Business had been slow.'
Well, then, he said, this fine place will do for me.
Hey, you there, he said to the man who pushed the barrow.
I'll want some help getting my chest upstairs.
I'll stay down here a bit.
He went on in a gruff tone.
I'm a plain man.
Bacon and eggs is what I want.
And that view up there to watch for ships.
You'll call me...
He noticed my father's doubting look and threw down some gold coins which he'd taken out of a small leather pouch.
You let me know, he said fiercely, when I've worked through that.
There's more where that came from.
Though he looked shabby and his manners were coarse, he seemed used to being obeyed.
The man who carried his things told us that he had just come into port that morning and that he had asked for a quiet inn along the coast.
That was all we could learn about our mysterious guest.
He was a silent man who spent his days upon the cliffs looking through a shiny brass telescope out across the horizon.
At night, he would sit by the fire in our parlor.
He would often not speak when spoken to and just as suddenly would blow his nose like a foghorn.
Our guests kept their distance from him, as did I and my father.
After his evening stroll, he would ask whether any sailors had come along the road.
At first we thought he was lonely, but soon we realized that he was hiding from someone.
When a seaman did come by, he would watch through the curtains and be silent as a mouse.
He started to take me into his confidence.
One day he promised me a silver fourpenny a month if I would watch with my weather eye for a one-legged sailor and let him know if he appeared.
He would sometimes scowl when I asked for payment, but would soon give in, knowing it was more important that I keep a lookout for him than to hold back my pay.
Keep a sharp lookout, he repeated, for the one-legged man.
This one-legged mystery man haunted my dreams and on stormy nights I would see him take shape in a nightmare.
With his leg off at the knee, then at the hip, then as a monster with a leg in the middle of his body.
He ran through my dreams, chasing me over fences and across fields.
I was paying dearly for my helping him.
And though I feared this man, I was less afraid of the captain than most.
They cowered as he sang his wicked, wild sea songs.
On stormy nights, he would tell us terrible stories and urge us all to sing his chorus of yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum, the guests joining in for fear of their lives.
He glared and slapped his hand on the table, flying into rages whenever the mood was upon him.
None dared leave the table until he had finished his singing and storytelling and had reeled off to sleep. and they were truly scary stories, dreadful tales of hanging, plank walking, and storms at sea.
He delighted in telling us that he had lived among the wickedest men who ever called themselves sailors, and his rough language shocked us as much as the crimes he spoke of.
My father thought the inn would be ruined.
People would stay away, he said. but I think the captain's presence brought newcomers to our inn.
They were afraid at first, but they soon allowed some excitement to enter into their quiet lives.
There was even a party in his honor where the young men called him Sea Dog and Old Salt and claimed he was the sort of fellow who made other nations show respect for us at sea.
But he stayed on long after his money had been spent and that started to bother us.
My father just never had enough courage to insist on more.
If he mentioned it, the captain roared at him and stared my father down until he left the room.
I'm sure that was one reason my father became so ill.
The captain never changed his clothes, and when his hat frayed, he threw it into the sea.
He repaired his own coat, and by the end of his stay, it was nothing but patches.
He had no visitors, neither wrote nor received any letters, and spoke to the neighbors only when he was bored.
None of us ever saw the great sea chest when it was open.
He was only challenged once when Dr. Livesey came to check on my poor father.
During a break, the doctor was having his dinner and speaking to another guest in the parlor while he waited for his horse.
I followed him in and compared his neat appearance with that of the captain.
His coat seemed so clean, his manner so bright next to that of our filthy old pirate.
Suddenly the captain struck up his song.
Fifteen men on a dead man's chest.
Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum.
Drink and the devil had done for the rest.
Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum.
I thought this chest was referring to his sea chest and it got tangled in my dreams with the terrible one-legged monster of a man.
But by now we had all stopped paying attention to that song.
It was only new to Dr Livesey, who looked quite angrily at the captain before going on with his conversation.
Soon the captain waved his hand for silence, and we all stopped talking.
Except for the good doctor, who went on speaking loud and clear.
Silence below decks!
Dr. Livesey turned to him and said one thing.
I have never before found the need to listen to scoundrels, and I certainly shall not make any exceptions tonight.
The captain jumped up in an awful temper and flicked open his knife, threatening to stab the doctor.
Dr Livesey stood stock still and spoke in the same voice, loudly saying If you do not put that knife away, I shall see you hang.
They glared at each other with terrible eyes, but the captain soon folded and sat growling like an old dog.
But the doctor was not finished. that I know your kind is in my district.
Know also that I'll have my eye on you.
I'm not only a doctor, I'm also a judge.
Let me hear one word of complaint against you, and I'll have you hunted down and driven out of town.
Let that be a warning enough to you.
The doctor's horse soon came and he rode away.
But the captain held his peace that evening and for many more to come.
