I was kept busy all day in the cave packing the minted money into bread-bags.
Day after day this work went on; by every evening a fortune had been stowed aboard, but there was another fortune waiting for the morrow; and all this time we heard nothing of the three surviving mutineers.
At last—I think it was on the third night—the doctor and I were strolling on the shoulder of the hill where it overlooks the lowlands of the isle, when, from out the thick darkness below, the wind brought us a noise between shrieking and singing. It was only a snatch that reached our ears, followed by the former silence.
“Heaven forgive them,” said the doctor; “’tis the mutineers!”
“All drunk, sir,” struck in the voice of Silver from behind us.
Silver, I should say, was allowed his entire liberty, and in spite of daily rebuffs, seemed to regard himself once more as quite a privileged and friendly dependent. Indeed, it was remarkable how well he bore these slights and with what unwearying politeness he kept on trying to ingratiate himself with all. Yet, I think, none treated him better than a dog, unless it was Ben Gunn, who was still terribly afraid of his old quartermaster, or myself, who had really something to thank him for; although for that matter, I suppose, I had reason to think even worse of him than anybody else, for I had seen him meditating a fresh treachery upon the plateau. Accordingly, it was pretty gruffly that the doctor answered him.
“Drunk or raving,” said he.
“Right you were, sir,” replied Silver; “and precious little odds which, to you and me.”
“I suppose you would hardly ask me to call you a humane man,” returned the doctor with a sneer, “and so my feelings may surprise you, Master Silver. But if I were sure they were raving—as I am morally certain one, at least, of them is down with fever—I should leave this camp, and at whatever risk to my own carcass, take them the assistance of my skill.”
“Ask your pardon, sir, you would be very wrong,” quoth Silver. “You would lose your precious life, and you may lay to that. I’m on your side now, hand and glove; and I shouldn’t wish for to see the party weakened, let alone yourself, seeing as I know what I owes you. But these men down there, they couldn’t keep their word—no, not supposing they wished to; and what’s more, they couldn’t believe as you could.”
“No,” said the doctor. “You’re the man to keep your word, we know that.”
Well, that was about the last news we had of the three pirates. Only once we heard a gunshot a great way off and supposed them to be hunting. A council was held, and it was decided that we must desert them on the island—to the huge glee, I must say, of Ben Gunn, and with the strong approval of Gray. We left a good stock of powder and shot, the bulk of the salt goat, a few medicines, and some other necessaries, tools, clothing, a spare sail, a fathom or two of rope, and by the particular desire of the doctor, a handsome present of tobacco.
That was about our last doing on the island. Before that, we had got the treasure stowed and had shipped enough water and the remainder of the goat meat in case of any distress; and at last, one fine morning, we weighed anchor, which was about all that we could manage, and stood out of North Inlet, the same colours flying that the captain had flown and fought under at the palisade.
The three fellows must have been watching us closer than we thought for, as we soon had proved. For coming through the narrows, we had to lie very near the southern point, and there we saw all three of them kneeling together on a spit of sand, with their arms raised in supplication. It went to all our hearts, I think, to leave them in that wretched state; but we could not risk another mutiny; and to take them home for the gibbet would have been a cruel sort of kindness. The doctor hailed them and told them of the stores we had left, and where they were to find them. But they continued to call us by name and appeal to us, for God’s sake, to be merciful and not leave them to die in such a place.
At last, seeing the ship still bore on her course and was now swiftly drawing out of earshot, one of them—I know not which it was—leapt to his feet with a hoarse cry, whipped his musket to his shoulder, and sent a shot whistling over Silver’s head and through the main-sail.
After that, we kept under cover of the bulwarks, and when next I looked out they had disappeared from the spit, and the spit itself had almost melted out of sight in the growing distance. That was, at least, the end of that; and before noon, to my inexpressible joy, the highest rock of Treasure Island had sunk into the blue round of sea.
We were so short of men that everyone on board had to bear a hand—only the captain lying on a mattress in the stern and giving his orders, for though greatly recovered he was still in want of quiet. We laid her head for the nearest port in Spanish America, for we could not risk the voyage home without fresh hands; and as it was, what with baffling winds and a couple of fresh gales, we were all worn out before we reached it.
It was just at sundown when we cast anchor in a most beautiful land-locked gulf, and were immediately surrounded by shore boats full of Negroes and Mexican Indians and half-bloods selling fruits and vegetables and offering to dive for bits of money. The sight of so many good-humoured faces (especially the blacks), the taste of the tropical fruits, and above all the lights that began to shine in the town made a most charming contrast to our dark and bloody sojourn on the island; and the doctor and the squire, taking me along with them, went ashore to pass the early part of the night. Here they met the captain of an English man-of-war, fell in talk with him, went on board his ship, and, in short, had so agreeable a time that day was breaking when we came alongside the Hispaniola.
Ben Gunn was on deck alone, and as soon as we came on board he began, with wonderful contortions, to make us a confession. Silver was gone. The maroon had connived at his escape in a shore boat some hours ago, and he now assured us he had only done so to preserve our lives, which would certainly have been forfeit if “that man with the one leg had stayed aboard.” But this was not all. The sea-cook had not gone empty-handed. He had cut through a bulkhead unobserved and had removed one of the sacks of coin, worth perhaps three or four hundred guineas, to help him on his further wanderings.
I think we were all pleased to be so cheaply quit of him.
Well, to make a long story short, we got a few hands on board, made a good cruise home, and the Hispaniola reached Bristol just as Mr. Blandly was beginning to think of fitting out her consort. Five men only of those who had sailed returned with her. “Drink and the devil had done for the rest,” with a vengeance, although, to be sure, we were not quite in so bad a case as that other ship they sang about:
With one man of her crew alive,
What put to sea with seventy-five.
All of us had an ample share of the treasure and used it wisely or foolishly, according to our natures. Captain Smollett is now retired from the sea. Gray not only saved his money, but being suddenly smit with the desire to rise, also studied his profession, and he is now mate and part owner of a fine full-rigged ship, married besides, and the father of a family. As for Ben Gunn, he got a thousand pounds, which he spent or lost in three weeks, or to be more exact, in nineteen days, for he was back begging on the twentieth. Then he was given a lodge to keep, exactly as he had feared upon the island; and he still lives, a great favourite, though something of a butt, with the country boys, and a notable singer in church on Sundays and saints’ days.
Of Silver we have heard no more. That formidable seafaring man with one leg has at last gone clean out of my life; but I dare say he met his old Negress, and perhaps still lives in comfort with her and Captain Flint. It is to be hoped so, I suppose, for his chances of comfort in another world are very small.
The bar silver and the arms still lie, for all that I know, where Flint buried them; and certainly they shall lie there for me. Oxen and wain-ropes would not bring me back again to that accursed island; and the worst dreams that ever I have are when I hear the surf booming about its coasts or start upright in bed with the sharp voice of Capt
ain Flint still ringing in my ears: “Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!
Endnotes
1 (dedication page) S.L.O.: Samuel Lloyd Osbourne was Fanny Osbourne’s son, always called Lloyd; addressed here in mock heroic style, he was only eleven years of age when Treasure Island was published. Later in life he collaborated with Stevenson on the novel The Wrecker (1892), the satirical novella The Wrong Box (1889), and other short pieces. He remained a close and caring companion to his stepfather, who in turn acted like a father to Lloyd. This bond appears to have been an important part of the author’s marriage to Fanny, who, like Stevenson’s earlier love interest, Frances Sitwell, was married when they met and considerably older than Stevenson.
2 (p. 5) To the Hesitating Purchaser: The example of Stevenson’s popular predecessor W. H. G. Kingston is typical of the problem of stereotyped literary repetition. From his first nautical tale, Peter the Whaler (1851), Kingston went on to produce The Three Midshipmen, The Three Lieutenants, The Three Commanders, and The Three Admirals. Obsessively rising higher in rank, the juvenile reader was intended to feel self-promoted. There was at least a kind of maniacal honesty about the whole process.
3 (p. 34) the coins were of all countries and sizes: Doubloons were valuable Spanish coins in colonial use, so named because they counted for 2 escudos. It is notoriously difficult to estimate coinage value for earlier times, but all of the following were known to be valuable: the French louis d‘ors, named for the gold imprint of the French king, the English guineas worth just over one pound (21 shillings), and the Spanish “pieces of eight,” estimated as equal to 8 reals, again named for their royal imprint on the coin. Like the treasure later described in the novel, this gathering of coins is typically miscellaneous; uniform numismatic values and weights were rare, partly because the coins derived their value from uncontrolled amounts of precious metal in each piece, partly because after minting they were always being “clipped,” but above all because a coin’s buying power would fluctuate, as it still does, depending on the costs of real goods. In this episode of the story, the only coins of which Jim’s mother “knew how to make her count” were the guineas, which for her had familiar and conventional English values.
4 (p. 47) the map of an island: Stevenson was much influenced by Edgar Allan Poe, whose story “The Gold-Bug,” besides advancing detective fiction, makes use of coded directions for finding Captain Kidd’s legendary treasure. The effect is mysterious but vaguely scientific, as required by deciphering directions and coordinates in cartography.
5 (p. 109) The Stockade: This feature of defense was taken from Captain Frederick Marryat’s novel Masterman Ready (1841-1842). Stevenson always acknowledged his “sources” and in this way revealed his allegiance to an older oral tradition. Professor John Seelye, introducing the Penguin edition of Treasure Island (1999), has shown the ways in which the novel draws from Washington Irving’s Tales of a Traveller (1824) for its first episode, and Irving in turn had borrowed from local lore. To such authors the links of tradition become more interesting than any supposed “originality.” In the same way, Stevenson would not hesitate to acknowledge his direct debts to James Fenimore Cooper, especially since Cooper was an experienced sailor, unlike Sir Walter Scott, who had written a nautically uninformed novel, The Pirate (1822). The key interest lies in the manner of narration, rather than the mere facts narrated. Here style is everything.
6 (p. 111) Narrative Continued by the Doctor: Having written the first fifteen chapters at lightning speed, Stevenson came to a dead stop, as if completely blocked. He left Britain for the Continent, largely with his health in mind, and then suddenly he picked up the narrative a second time, driving it toward its conclusion. Very likely his technique of handing the narrative to the doctor, having taken it away from Jim, helped with this creative transition. The doctor’s more formal narrative bespeaks an “old soldier,” a mature medical man, and the story can thus settle down stylistically until Jim is ready to resume it in chapter XIX. The doctor can quote a spare factual segment of Captain Smollett’s logbook, while the tonal shift from one narrator to another and then back again is a subtle example of Stevenson’s fictional skill. Jim is allowed a reprieve from center stage, leaving the reader curious as to his intervening fate. A similar narrative device is the narrator’s footnote to chapter XXI; it provides the “realistic” effect of a careful historical account following the episode of the attack.
7 (p. 203) a verse or two of Revelation: This final book of the Christian Bible, an apocalyptic vision of the “end of days,” provides a fitting note for the conclusion of Stevenson’s novel, for Revelation is basic to Scottish Protestantism. Jim Hawkins quotes from chapter 22, verse 15, which draws a contrast between the elect and the reprobate: “Blessed are they that do his commandments, that they may have right to the tree of life, and may enter in through the gates into the city. / For without are dogs, and sorcerers, and whoremongers, and murderers, and idolaters, and whosoever loveth and maketh a lie” (King James Version). With a certain wit the ensuing chapter of Treasure Island, “On Parole,” puns on the idea of the Word of God, eliciting a sense that the pirates’ despoiling or “gutting” the Bible in the previous account is a case of blasphemy. The sailor Morgan lays the blame squarely:“That comed of sp’iling Bibles” (p. 205). Stevenson is intensifying religious aspects of his young narrator’s rhetoric. Similarly, the final treasure hunt is suffused with a weird tone, one that echoes the voice of superstition, the consequence of a prophetic role accorded to the sacrificial victim of piracy—Ben Gunn, the castaway.
Inspired by Treasure Island
LITERATURE
Robert Louis Stevenson’s Treasure Island can be seen as the high point of several well-established modes of adventure storytelling, including the “deserted island” novel (epitomized by Daniel Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe), the pirate novel (including Sir Walter Scott’s The Pirate and R. M. Ballantyne’s The Coral Island, one of Stevenson’s favorite books), and the myth of buried treasure (as exemplified in Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Gold-Bug,” in which William Legrand searches for the spoils of Captain Kidd) .
The great popularity of Stevenson’s “first book,” as he lovingly called it, has secured a special place in the English lexicon for the phrases “Shiver me timbers” and “Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum,” and Long John Silver is the archetypal peg-legged pirate. In J. M. Barrie’s Peter Pan (1911)—a book riddled with references to Treasure Island-the villainous Captain Hook, his hand eaten by a crocodile, is based almost exclusively on Stevenson’s original.
When Treasure Island was first serialized in Young Folks magazine in 1881, it did not fare well. But when it came out in book form the tale generated such excitement, especially among young boys, that Young Folks commissioned another such story from Stevenson. The result was The Black Arrow: A Tale of the Two Roses (1888). Overspilling with war, treachery, and high romance, The Black Arrow is nevertheless Stevenson’s most serious historical novel. In The Master of Ballantrae (1889), set in eighteenth-century Scotland, Stevenson wrote a tale of the rivalry of two brothers that involves sea voyages, piracy, and buried treasure, among other magical and nightmarish elements.
H. Rider Haggard began his best-selling King Solomon’s Mines (1885) when his brother bet him that he couldn’t write a story of the same caliber as Treasure Island. Haggard’s tale of a search for riches furthers the buried treasure myth, by that time deeply ingrained in popular culture. Haggard traded the maritime setting for the mysterious landscape of Africa, which Britain was just beginning to explore in earnest. A treasure map falls into the hands of Allan Quatermain, the novel’s hero. Quatermain and his companions brave fierce terrain, unforgiving elements, and tribal warfare in their efforts to find the buried diamonds of the dead King Solomon. Appearing in more than a dozen of Haggard’s sequels, Quatermain is the prototype of the explorer-hero. Modern moviegoers know him as Indiana Jones.
As the nineteenth century wound down and the twentieth began, the l
iterary public’s taste began to favor naturalism and realism, but a few promulgators of adventure fiction persisted. Robert Neilson Stephens—sometimes called the American Robert Louis Stevenson—published the rousing Captain Ravenshaw; or, the Maid of Cheapside in 1901. Rafael Sabatini kept the swashbuckling tale alive with his novels Scaramouche (1921) and Captain Blood (1922).
FILM
Only a few decades after Stevenson’s classic was published, Hollywood began bringing Treasure Island to the silver screen. The many film renditions that followed range widely in style, from Orson Welles’s nearly unintelligible turn as Long John Silver in 1972 to Brian Henson’s rollicking Muppet Treasure Island (1996). Among the first cinematic adaptations were a handful of efforts from the era before sound: a lost 1908 version, a rarely shown silent from 1912 produced by the Edison Company, and a “kiddie” version of 1918. In 1920 Paramount produced the first large-scale silent adaptation of the pirate classic, which began the trend of making Jim Hawkins a young boy.
One of the best-loved Treasure Island movies is the humorous 1934 film by Victor Fleming, who later directed The Wizard of Oz (1939) and Gone with the Wind (1939). Silver’s parrot has a more prominent role in this film than in the book, which helped establish that comic avian character, along with Silver’s peg leg, as a paradigmatic piratical appendage. Wallace Berry plays a staid Long John Silver, Jackie Cooper is Jim Hawkins, and Lionel Barrymore hams it up as Billy Bones. Stevenson’s colorful song “Dead Man’s Chest” adds flavor to the light, warm-hearted adventure, which focuses with great feeling on the relationship between good-hearted Jim and the conniving Silver.
Treasure Island (Barnes & Noble Classics Series) Page 24
