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Treasure Island
Chapter 2. Black Dog Appears and Disappears
It wasn't very long after this that the first of the mysterious events happened.
These events finally got rid of the captain for us, though not, as you'll see, of his business.
It was a bitter cold winter, with long, hard frosts and heavy storms.
It was clear from the start that my poor father was unlikely to see the spring.
He got worse every day, and my mother and I had to run the whole inn ourselves.
We were kept busy enough without paying much attention to our unpleasant guest.
It was one January morning, very early, a freezing, frosty morning.
The cove was grey with frost, water lapped on the stones, the sun was low, touching the hilltops and shining out to sea.
The captain had risen earlier than usual and had gone down to the beach.
His cutlass swung beneath the wide skirts of his old blue coat, his brass telescope under his arm, and his hat pushed back.
I remember his breath hanging like smoke behind him as he walked off.
The last sound I heard as he turned the rock was a snort, as if he were still thinking of Dr. Livesey.
Well, my mother was upstairs with my father.
And I was setting the table for the captain's return when the parlour door opened and a man stepped in.
I had never seen him before, he was a pale, sickly-looking creature, missing two fingers from his left hand.
Though he wore a cutlass, he didn't look much like a fighter.
I always kept my eyes open for seafaring men, with one leg or two, and I remember this one puzzled me.
He didn't look like a sailor, but he still had something of the sea about him.
I asked him what he wanted, and he said he'd take rum.
But as I was going out of the room to get it, he sat down on a table and waved for me to come closer.
I stopped where I was, with my napkin in my hand.
"Come here, sonny," he said.
"Come closer here."
I took a single step closer toward him, my heart beating quickly in my chest.
"Is this table for my mate Bill?" he asked with a kind of sneer.
I told him I didn't know his mate Bill, and this was for a person who stayed in our house, whom we called the captain.
"Well," he said, "my mate Bill would be called the captain, most likely."
"He has a cut on one cheek and a very pleasant way about him, especially when he's drunk."
"Let's say, for the sake of argument, that your captain's cut is on the right cheek, ah, well! Now, is my mate Bill in this house"?
I told him he was out walking.
"Which way, sonny? Which way did he go?"
I pointed out the rock, I told him when the captain would likely return, I answered a few other questions.
"Ah," he said, "this will be as good as a drink to my mate Bill."
The look on his face when he said these words wasn't at all pleasant.
I had my own reasons for thinking the stranger was wrong, even if he meant what he said.
But it wasn't my business, I thought.
Besides, it was hard to know what to do.
The stranger stayed just inside the inn door, peering around the corner like a cat waiting for a mouse.
Once I stepped out into the road myself, but he immediately called me back.
When I didn't obey fast enough for his liking, a horrible change came over his sickly face.
And he ordered me in with a curse that made me jump.
As soon as I was back inside, he returned to his earlier manner, half friendly, half mocking.
He patted me on the shoulder, told me I was a good boy, and said he had taken a liking to me.
"I have a son of my own,"
He said, "as much like you as two blocks, and he's all the pride of my heart."
"But the great thing for boys is discipline, sonny, discipline."
"Now, if you had sailed with Bill, you wouldn't have stood there to be spoken to twice, not you."
"That was never Bill's way, nor the way of those who sailed with him."
"And here, sure enough, is my mate Bill, with a spyglass under his arm, bless his old heart, to be sure. You and I'll go back into the parlour, sonny, hide behind the door, and give Bill a little surprise, bless his heart".
So saying, the stranger backed into the parlour with me and put me behind him, hiding us behind the open door.
I was very uneasy and scared, as you can imagine.
It made me even more afraid to notice that the stranger was certainly frightened himself.
He cleared the hilt of his cutlass and loosened the blade in its sheath.
All the time we waited there, he kept swallowing, as if he felt what we used to call a lump in his throat.
At last the captain strode in, his face pale and his step heavy.
He slammed the door behind him, without looking left or right, and marched straight across the room to where his breakfast was waiting.
"Bill," said the stranger in a voice that I thought he had tried to make bold and loud.
The captain spun around on his heel and faced us.
All the brown color had gone from his face, and even his nose was blue.
He looked like a man who sees a ghost, or the devil, or something worse, if anything can be.
And I tell you, I felt sorry to see him suddenly turn so old and sick.
"Come on, Bill, you know me. You know an old shipmate, Bill, surely," said the stranger.
The captain made a sort of gasp.
"Black Dog!" he said.
"And who else?" replied the other, getting more comfortable.
"Black Dog as ever was, come to see his old shipmate Billy at the Admiral Benbow inn."
"Ah, Bill, Bill, we have seen a lot of times together, us two, since I lost these two claws," He said, holding up his damaged hand.
"Now, listen here," said the captain.
"You've run me down. Here I'm. Well, then, speak up. What's it?"
"That's you, Bill," replied Black Dog.
"You're right about that, Billy."
"I'll have a glass of rum from this dear child here, who I've taken such a liking to."
"And we'll sit down, if you please, and talk straight, like old shipmates."
When I returned with the rum, they were already seated on either side of the captain's breakfast table.
Black Dog sat by the door, sideways, keeping one eye on his old shipmate and the other on his escape route.
He told me to go and leave the door wide open.
"No keyholes for me, sonny," he said.
I left them together and went back into the bar.
For a long time, though I certainly did my best to listen, I could hear nothing but a low murmuring.
But at last the voices began to get louder, and I could pick up a word or two, mostly curses, from the captain.
"No, no, no, no, and that's the end of it!" he cried once.
And again, "If it comes to hanging, hang everyone, I say."
Then all of a sudden there was a huge explosion of curses and other noises.
The chair and table went over with a crash.
There was a clash of steel, then a cry of pain.
The next instant I saw Black Dog running away as fast as he could, and the captain chasing him closely.
Both had their cutlasses drawn, and Black Dog was bleeding from his left shoulder.
Just at the door, the captain aimed one last huge cut at the man running away.
It would certainly have split him in two if it hadn't been stopped by our big signboard of Admiral Benbow.
You can still see the notch on the lower side of the frame today.
That blow was the last of the fight.
Once on the road, Black Dog, despite his wound, showed wonderful heels and vanished over the hill in thirty seconds.
The captain, for his part, stood staring at the signboard like a confused man.
Then he passed his hand over his eyes several times and finally turned back into the house.
"Jim," he said, "rum." And as he spoke, he staggered a little and caught himself with one hand against the wall.
"Are you hurt?" I cried.
"Rum," he repeated.
"I have to get away from here. Rum! Rum!"
I ran to get it, but I was quite shaken by everything that had happened.
I broke one glass and messed up the tap.
While I was still getting in my own way, I heard a loud crash in the parlour.
I ran in and saw the captain lying full length on the floor.
At the same moment, my mother, alarmed by the cries and fighting, came running downstairs to help me, Together we lifted his head.
He was breathing very loudly and heavily, but his eyes were closed and his face was a horrible color.
"Dear, oh dear," cried my mother.
"What a disgrace on the house! And your poor father sick!"
In the meantime, we had no idea what to do to help the captain.
We thought he had been killed in the fight with the stranger.
I got the rum, tried to pour it down his throat, but his teeth were shut, his jaws were iron.
It was a great relief for us when the door opened and Doctor Livesey came in, on his visit to my father.
"Oh, doctor," we cried, "what should we do? Where is he wounded?"
"Wounded? Nonsense!" said the doctor.
"He's no more wounded than you or I," said the doctor, "The man has had a stroke, as I warned him."
"Now, Mrs. Hawkins, just go upstairs to your husband and tell him, if possible, nothing about this," said the doctor.
"As for me, I must do my best to save this fellow's completely worthless life, Jim, get me a basin".
When I got back with the basin, the doctor had already ripped up the captain's sleeve and exposed his big, muscular arm.
His muscular forearm was tattooed in several places with various sailor designs.
"Here's luck," "A fair wind," and "Billy Bones his fancy" were very neatly and clearly done on the forearm.
And up near the shoulder there was a drawing of a gallows and a man hanging from it, done, I thought, with great spirit.
"Prophetic," said the doctor, touching this picture with his finger.
"And now, Master Billy Bones, if that's your name, we'll have a look at the color of your blood. Jim," he said, "are you afraid of blood?"
"No, sir," I said.
"Well, then," he said, "you hold the basin." And with that, he took his lancet and opened a vein.
A great deal of blood was taken before the captain opened his eyes and looked around hazily.
First he recognized the doctor with a clear frown.
Then his glance fell on me, and he looked relieved.
But suddenly his color changed, and he tried to sit up, crying, "Where's Black Dog?"
"There's no Black Dog here," said the doctor.
"Except what you have on your own back. You have been drinking rum. You have had a stroke, exactly as I told you."
"I have just, very much against my own will, dragged you headfirst out of the grave. Now, Mr. Bones."
"That's not my name," he interrupted.
"I don't care," replied the doctor.
"It's the name of a pirate I know."
"I call you by it for the sake of shortness."
"And what I have to say to you is this, one glass of rum won't kill you, but if you take one, you'll take another and another."
"And I swear, if you don't stop completely, you'll die."
"Do you understand that?"
"Die, and go to your own place, like the man in the Bible."
"Come on, now, make an effort."
"I'll help you to your bed for once."
Between us, with much trouble, we managed to lift him upstairs and laid him on his bed.
His head fell back on the pillow as if he was almost fainting.
"Now, listen," said the doctor.
"I clear my conscience. The name of rum for you is death."
And with that, he went off to see my father, taking me with him by the arm.
"This is nothing," he said as soon as he had closed the door.
"I have drawn enough blood to keep him quiet for a while."
"He should lie where he's for a week."
"That's the best thing for him and for you."
"But another stroke would finish him."