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IT was not very long after this that there occurred the
first of the mysterious events that rid us at last of
the captain, though not, as you will see, of his
affairs. It was a bitter cold winter, with long, hard
frosts and heavy gales; and it was plain from the first
that my poor father was little likely to see the
spring. He sank daily, and my mother and I had all the
inn upon our hands, and were kept busy enough without
paying much regard to our unpleasant guest.
It was one January morning, very early--a pinching,
frosty morning--the cove all grey with hoar-frost, the
ripple lapping softly on the stones, the sun still low
and only touching the hilltops and shining far to
seaward. The captain had risen earlier than usual and
set out down the beach, his cutlass swinging under the
broad skirts of the old blue coat, his brass telescope
under his arm, his hat tilted back upon his head. I
remember his breath hanging like smoke in his wake as
he strode off, and the last sound I heard of him as he
turned the big rock was a loud snort of indignation, as
though his mind was still running upon Dr. Livesey.
Well, mother was upstairs with father and I was laying
the breakfast-table against the captain's return when
the parlour door opened and a man stepped in on whom I
had never set my eyes before. He was a pale, tallowy
creature, wanting two fingers of the left hand, and
though he wore a cutlass, he did not look much like a
fighter. I had always my eye open for seafaring men,
with one leg or two, and I remember this one puzzled
me. He was not sailorly, and yet he had a smack of the
sea about him too.
I asked him what was for his service, and he said he would
take rum; but as I was going out of the room to fetch it,
he sat down upon a table and motioned me to draw near. I
paused where I was, with my napkin in my hand.
"Come here, sonny," says he. "Come nearer here."
I took a step nearer.
"Is this here table for my mate Bill?" he asked with a
kind of leer.
I told him I did not know his mate Bill, and this was for
a person who stayed in our house whom we called the captain.
"Well," said he, "my mate Bill would be called the
captain, as like as not. He has a cut on one cheek and
a mighty pleasant way with him, particularly in drink,
has my mate Bill. We'll put it, for argument like, that
your captain has a cut on one cheek--and we'll put it, if
you like, that that cheek's the right one. Ah, well! I
told you. Now, is my mate Bill in this here house?"
I told him he was out walking.
"Which way, sonny? Which way is he gone?"
And when I had pointed out the rock and told him how
the captain was likely to return, and how soon, and
answered a few other questions, "Ah," said he, "this'll
be as good as drink to my mate Bill."
The expression of his face as he said these words was
not at all pleasant, and I had my own reasons for
thinking that the stranger was mistaken, even supposing
he meant what he said. But it was no affair of mine, I
thought; and besides, it was difficult to know what to
do. The stranger kept hanging about just inside the
inn door, peering round the corner like a cat waiting
for a mouse. Once I stepped out myself into the road,
but he immediately called me back, and as I did not
obey quick enough for his fancy, a most horrible change
came over his tallowy face, and he ordered me in with
an oath that made me jump. As soon as I was back again
he returned to his former manner, half fawning, half
sneering, patted me on the shoulder, told me I was a
good boy and he had taken quite a fancy to me. "I have
a son of my own," said he, "as like you as two blocks,
and he's all the pride of my 'art. But the great thing
for boys is discipline, sonny--discipline. Now, if you
had sailed along of Bill, you wouldn't have stood there
to be spoke to twice--not you. That was never Bill's
way, nor the way of sich as sailed with him. And here,
sure enough, is my mate Bill, with a spy-glass under
his arm, bless his old 'art, to be sure. You and me'll
just go back into the parlour, sonny, and get behind
the door, and we'll give Bill a little surprise--bless
his 'art, I say again.
So saying, the stranger backed along with me into the
parlour and put me behind him in the corner so that we
were both hidden by the open door. I was very uneasy
and alarmed, as you may fancy, and it rather added to
my fears to observe that the stranger was certainly
frightened himself. He cleared the hilt of his cutlass
and loosened the blade in the sheath; and all the time
we were waiting there he kept swallowing as if he felt
what we used to call a lump in the throat.
At last in strode the captain, slammed the door behind him,
without looking to the right or left, and marched straight
across the room to where his breakfast awaited him.
"Bill," said the stranger in a voice that I thought he
had tried to make bold and big.
The captain spun round on his heel and fronted us; all
the brown had gone out of his face, and even his nose
was blue; he had the look of a man who sees a ghost, or
the evil one, or something worse, if anything can be;
and upon my word, I felt sorry to see him all in a
moment turn so old and sick.
"Come, Bill, you know me; you know an old shipmate,
Bill, surely," said the stranger.
The captain made a sort of gasp.
"Black Dog!" said he.
"And who else?" returned the other, getting more at his
ease. "Black Dog as ever was, come for to see his old
shipmate Billy, at the Admiral Benbow inn. Ah, Bill,
Bill, we have seen a sight of times, us two, since I
lost them two talons," holding up his mutilated hand.
"Now, look here," said the captain; "you've run me
down; here I am; well, then, speak up; what is it?"
"That's you, Bill," returned Black Dog, "you're in the
right of it, Billy. I'll have a glass of rum from this
dear child here, as I've took such a liking to; and
we'll sit down, if you please, and talk square, like
old shipmates."
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