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DESTINATION TREASURE ISLAND NEEDS WHICH WINDOWS FRAMWORK KEYGENAt first we thought it was the want of company of his own kind that made him ask this question, but at last we began to see he was desirous to avoid them. Every day when he came back from his stroll he would ask if any seafaring men had gone by along the road. Mostly he would not speak when spoken to, only look up sudden and fierce and blow through his nose like a fog-horn and we and the people who came about our house soon learned to let him be. All day he hung round the cove or upon the cliffs with a brass telescope all evening he sat in a corner of the parlour next the fire and drank rum and water very strong. And that was all we could learn of our guest. The man who came with the barrow told us the mail had set him down the morning before at the Royal George, that he had inquired what inns there were along the coast, and hearing ours well spoken of, I suppose, and described as lonely, had chosen it from the others for his place of residence. “You can tell me when I’ve worked through that,” says he, looking as fierce as a commander.Īnd indeed bad as his clothes were and coarsely as he spoke, he had none of the appearance of a man who sailed before the mast, but seemed like a mate or skipper accustomed to be obeyed or to strike. Oh, I see what you’re at-there” and he threw down three or four gold pieces on the threshold. What you mought call me? You mought call me captain. “I’m a plain man rum and bacon and eggs is what I want, and that head up there for to watch ships off. Here you, matey,” he cried to the man who trundled the barrow “bring up alongside and help up my chest. “Well, then,” said he, “this is the berth for me. My father told him no, very little company, the more was the pity. “This is a handy cove,” says he at length “and a pleasant sittyated grog-shop. This, when it was brought to him, he drank slowly, like a connoisseur, lingering on the taste and still looking about him at the cliffs and up at our signboard. Then he rapped on the door with a bit of stick like a handspike that he carried, and when my father appeared, called roughly for a glass of rum. In the high, old tottering voice that seemed to have been tuned and broken at the capstan bars. I remember him looking round the cove and whistling to himself as he did so, and then breaking out in that old sea-song that he sang so often afterwards: I remember him as if it were yesterday, as he came plodding to the inn door, his sea-chest following behind him in a hand-barrow-a tall, strong, heavy, nut-brown man, his tarry pigtail falling over the shoulder of his soiled blue coat, his hands ragged and scarred, with black, broken nails, and the sabre cut across one cheek, a dirty, livid white. Livesey, and the rest of these gentlemen having asked me to write down the whole particulars about Treasure Island, from the beginning to the end, keeping nothing back but the bearings of the island, and that only because there is still treasure not yet lifted, I take up my pen in the year of grace 17 – and go back to the time when my father kept the Admiral Benbow inn and the brown old seaman with the sabre cut first took up his lodging under our roof. The Treasure-hunt-The Voice Among the Trees Narrative Resumed by Jim Hawkins: The Garrison in the Stockadeģ2. Narrative Continued by the Doctor: End of the First Day’s Fightingġ9. Narrative Continued by the Doctor: The Jolly-boat’s Last Tripġ8. Narrative Continued by the Doctor: How the Ship Was Abandonedġ7. The Old Sea-dog at the “Admiral Benbow”ġ6. With all of the 108 (!!) remarkable illustrations of the first 1883 edition by the celebrated Anglo-American illustrator Louis Rhead.Īn e-book is available for downloading below.ġ. The writing is splendidly taut, the story moves along steadily at a nice pace, the bad guys are really well done – unlike the current mythology, pirates are not portrayed as romantic rebels or gentlemen of fortune revelling in their marginal ways, but as the savage cut-throat scum that they really were – and we meet one of the outstanding characters in all fiction, the extraordinarily resourceful, capable, very dangerous and deceptively likeable Long John Silver, who actually gets away at the end!Ī masterful tale that needs to be revisited years after that first exciting reading experience to be fully appreciated. One of the best books for younger readers ever written - anyone who has not read this book around the age of 12 years or so has missed something important in the growing-up experience!
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