Treasure Island read in full. Chapter IIThe Black Dog Comes and Goes

Part I
Old pirate

Chapter I
The Old Sea Dog at the Admiral Benbow Inn

And he had a stick like a gunshot. He knocked on our door with this stick and, when my father came out on the threshold, rudely demanded a glass of rum.

The rum was served to him, and with the air of a connoisseur, he began to slowly savor every sip. He drank and looked first at the rocks, then at the inn sign.

“The bay is convenient,” he said finally. - Not a bad place for a tavern. Crowded, buddy?

The father replied that no, unfortunately, very little.

- Well then! - said the sailor. – This one... is just for me... Hey, buddy! - he shouted to the man who was pushing a wheelbarrow behind him. “Come here and help me drag the chest in... I’ll live here for a while,” he continued. - I'm a simple person. Rum, pork belly and fried eggs are all I need. Yes, that cape from which you can see ships passing on the sea... What should you call me? Well, call me captain... Hey, I see what you want! Here!

And he threw three or four gold coins onto the threshold.

“When these are over, you can come and tell me,” he said sternly and looked at his father like a boss.

And indeed, although his clothes were rather poor and his speech was rude, he did not look like a simple sailor. Rather, he could be mistaken for a navigator or skipper who was accustomed to being obeyed. It was felt that he loved to give free rein to his fist. The man with the wheelbarrow told us that the stranger arrived yesterday morning by mail at the King George's Inn and inquired there about all the inns located near the sea. Having heard about our tavern, it must have been good feedback and having learned that he was about to depart, the captain decided to settle with us. That's all we managed to find out about our guest.

He was a silent man. All day long he wandered along the shore of the bay or climbed the rocks with a copper telescope. In the evenings, he sat in the common room in the very corner, by the fire, and drank rum, diluting it slightly with water. He did not answer if anyone spoke to him. He'll just look at you with a fierce look and whistle with his nose, like a ship's siren in the fog. Soon we and our visitors learned to leave him alone. Every day, returning from a walk, he inquired whether any sailors had passed along our road. At first we thought that he missed the company of drunkards like himself. But in the end we began to understand that he wanted to be away from them. If a sailor, making his way along the coast road to Bristol, stopped at the Admiral Benbow, the captain first looked at him from behind the door curtain and only then went out into the drawing room. In the presence of such people, he always sat quietly, like a mouse.

I knew what was going on, because the captain shared his concern with me. One day he took me aside and promised to pay me four pence in silver on the first of every month if I would “keep an eye out for a sailor on one leg somewhere,” and tell him as soon as I saw one. When the first day came and I turned to him for the promised salary, he just blew his nose and looked at me fiercely. But not even a week passed when, having thought about it, he brought me a coin and repeated the order not to miss the “sailor on one leg.”

This one-legged sailor haunted me even in my dreams.

On stormy nights, when the wind shook all four corners of our house, and the surf roared in the bay and in the cliffs, I dreamed of him in a thousand ways, in the form of a thousand different devils. His leg was cut off either at the knee or at the very hip. At times he seemed to me like some kind of terrible monster, with one single leg growing from the very middle of his body. He chased me on this one leg, jumping over fences and ditches. My fourpence each month came at a price: I paid for it with these disgusting dreams.

But no matter how scary the one-legged sailor was for me, I was much less afraid of the captain himself than everyone else. On some evenings he drank so much rum and water that his head was shaking, and then he stayed for a long time in the tavern and sang his old, wild, cruel sea songs, not paying attention to anyone present. And it also happened that he invited everyone to his table and demanded glasses. The invitees trembled with fear, and he forced them either to listen to his stories about sea adventures or to sing along with him in chorus. The walls of our house shook then from “Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum,” since all the visitors, fearing his violent anger, tried to shout out one another and sing as loudly as possible, if only the captain would be pleased with them, because at such hours he was unbridledly menacing: he banged his fist on the table, demanding that everyone shut up; he would become furious if anyone interrupted his speech or asked him any question; then, on the contrary, he became furious if no questions were addressed to him, since, in his opinion, this proved that they were not listening to him attentively. He did not let anyone out of the tavern - the company could disperse only when he was overcome by drowsiness from drinking wine and he staggered to his bed.

But most terrible of all were his stories. Horrible tales of gallows, of walking on the plank, of storms and the Dry Tortugas, of robbers' nests and robber exploits in the Spanish Sea.

Judging by his stories, he spent his entire life among the most notorious villains who ever visited the sea. And the abuse that flew out of his mouth after every word frightened our simple-minded village people no less than the crimes he spoke about.

Father constantly insisted that we would have to close our tavern: the captain would drive all visitors away from us. Who wants to be subjected to such bullying and tremble in horror on the way home! However, I think that the captain, on the contrary, brought us rather benefit. True, the visitors were afraid of him, but after a day they were drawn to him again. He brought some kind of pleasant anxiety into the quiet, provincial life. Among the youth there were even fans of the captain who said that they admired him. “A real sea wolf, thoroughly salted by the sea!” - they exclaimed.

According to them, it was people like our captain who made England the terror of the seas.

But, on the other hand, this person really brought us losses. Week after week passed, month after month; the money he gave us upon his appearance had long been spent, and he did not pay new money, and my father did not have the courage to demand it. As soon as the father mentioned the payment, the captain began to snore with fury; it wasn't even a sniffle, but a growl; he looked at his father so much that he flew out of the room in horror. I saw him wring his hands in despair after such attempts. There is no doubt in my mind that these fears greatly hastened my father's sad and untimely death.

During his entire stay with us, the captain wore the same clothes, only he bought several pairs of stockings from a peddler. One edge of his hat was drooping; the captain left it like that, although in the strong wind this was a great inconvenience. I remember well what a tattered caftan he had; No matter how much he repaired it upstairs in his room, in the end the caftan turned into rags.

He never wrote or received any letters from anywhere. And he never talked to anyone, unless he was very drunk. And none of us ever saw him open his chest.

Only once did they dare to contradict the captain, and that happened at the very last days, when my unfortunate father was dying.

One evening Dr. Livesey came to see the patient. He examined the patient, hurriedly ate the lunch my mother had given him, and went down to the common room to smoke a pipe while waiting for the horse to be brought to him. The horse remained in the village, since the old Benbow did not have a stable.

I led him into the common room and remember how this elegant, smartly dressed doctor in a snow-white wig, black-eyed, well-mannered, struck me with his difference from the village bumpkins who visited our tavern. He was especially sharply different from our scarecrow crow, a dirty, gloomy, overweight pirate, who was drunk on rum and sat with his elbows leaning on the table.

Suddenly the captain roared his eternal song:

Fifteen men on a dead man's chest.
Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!
Drink, and the devil will bring you to the end.
Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!

At first I thought that the “dead man’s chest” was the same chest that was upstairs in the captain’s room.

In my nightmares, this chest often appeared in front of me along with a one-legged sailor. But little by little we got so used to this song that we stopped paying attention to it. That evening she was news only to Dr. Livesey and, as I noticed, did not make a pleasant impression on him. He glared at the captain before resuming his conversation with the old gardener, Taylor, about a new treatment for rheumatism. Meanwhile, the captain, inflamed by his own singing, hit the table with his fist. This meant that he demanded silence.

All the voices fell silent at once; only Dr. Livesey continued his good-natured and loud speech, puffing on his pipe after each word. The captain looked at him piercingly, then hit the table with his fist again, then looked even more piercingly and suddenly shouted, accompanying his words with obscene abuse:

- Hey, there, on the deck, be quiet!

-Are you addressing me, sir? - asked the doctor. He said that it was to him, and then cursed again.

“Then, sir, I’ll tell you one thing,” replied the doctor, “if you don’t stop drinking, you will soon rid the world of one of the most vile scoundrels!”

The captain flew into a furious rage. He jumped to his feet, pulled out and opened his sailor's penknife and began to threaten the doctor that he would pin him to the wall.

The doctor didn't even move. He continued to talk to him without turning around, over his shoulder, in the same voice - maybe just a little louder so that everyone could hear.

Calmly and firmly he said:

“If you don’t put this knife in your pocket right now, I swear on your honor that you will be hanging on the gallows after the first session of our traveling court.”

A duel began between their eyes. But the captain soon gave up. He hid his knife and sank into a chair, grumbling like a beaten dog.

“And now, sir,” continued the doctor, “since I have learned that there is such a person in my district, I will have the strictest supervision over you day and night.” I'm not only a doctor, I'm also a judge. And if even the slightest complaint reaches me - even if only that you were rude to someone... like now - I will take decisive measures to have you taken away and kicked out of here. I won't say anything more.

Soon Dr. Livesey was given a horse and he rode off. But the captain was quiet and humble all evening and remained so for many more evenings in a row.

Chapter II
Black Dog comes and goes

Soon the first of those mysterious events occurred, thanks to which we finally got rid of the captain. But, having gotten rid of him, we did not get rid, as you will see, of his troublesome affairs.

It was a cold winter with long bitter frosts and stormy winds. And from the very beginning it became clear that my poor father would hardly see spring. Every day he became worse. My mother and I had to run the tavern. We had our hands full and paid very little attention to our unpleasant guest.

It was an early frosty January morning. The bay turned gray from frost. Small ripples gently licked the coastal stones. The sun had not yet risen and only touched the tops of the hills and the distance of the sea with its rays. The captain woke up earlier than usual and headed to the sea. Under the wide skirts of his tattered blue caftan a dagger fluttered. He had a telescope under his arm. He pushed his hat back on his head. I remember that steam flew out of his mouth and swirled in the air like smoke. I heard him snort angrily as he disappeared behind a large rock, probably still unable to forget his encounter with Dr. Livesey.

Mother was upstairs with father, and I was setting the breakfast table for the captain's arrival. Suddenly the door opened and a man I had never seen before entered the room.

He was pale, with a sallow face. He was missing two fingers on his left hand. There was nothing warlike about him, although he had a dirk hanging from his belt. I always kept my eye on every sailor, whether he was on one leg or two, and I remember that this man puzzled me very much. He didn't look much like a sailor, and yet I felt that he was a sailor.

I asked him what he wanted and he asked for rum. And I rushed out of the room to carry out his order, but he sat down at the table and again called me to him. I stopped with a napkin in my hand.

“Come here, son,” he said. - Come closer.

I went.

– Is this table set for my comrade, navigator Billy? – he asked grinning.

I replied that I did not know any navigator Billy and that the table was set for one of our guests, whom we call the captain.

“Well,” he said, “my comrade, navigator Billy, can also be called captain.” This doesn't change things. He has a scar on his cheek and a very pleasant manner, especially when he gets drunk. Here he is, my navigator Billy! Your captain also has a scar on his cheek. And just on the right. So everything is fine, isn't it? So, I would like to know: is my comrade Billy here in this house?

I replied that the captain had gone for a walk.

-Where to, son? Where did he go?

I showed him the rock where the captain visited every day, and said that he would probably return soon.

- And when?

And, after asking me several more different questions, he said at the end:

- Yes, my friend Billy will be as happy with me as with a drink.

However, his face was gloomy at these words, and I had every reason to think that the captain would not be too happy to meet him. But I immediately told myself that this does not concern me. And besides, it was difficult to do anything under such circumstances. The stranger stood at the very front door of the inn and watched the corner of the house, like a cat lying in wait for a mouse. I wanted to go out into the yard, but he immediately called out to me. I did not immediately obey him, and his pale face suddenly became distorted with such anger and he burst out with such curses that I jumped back in fear. But as soon as I returned, he began to talk to me as before, either flatteringly or mockingly, patted me on the shoulder, told me that I was a nice boy and that he immediately fell in love with me.

“I have a son,” he said, “and you look like him like two peas in a pod.” He is the pride of my parental heart. But for boys, the main thing is obedience. Yes, son, obedience. Now, if you swam with Billy, you wouldn't have to be called twice. Billy never repeated orders, and neither did the others who sailed with him... And here he is, my navigator Billy, with a telescope under his arm, God bless him! Let's go into the hall again, hide behind the door, son, and give Billy a surprise, make Billy happy, God bless him!

With these words, he drove me into the common room, into a corner, and hid me behind his back. We were both obscured by the open door. I was both unpleasant and a little scared, as you can imagine, especially when I noticed that the stranger was a coward himself. He released the handle of his cutlass, pulled it out of its sheath a little and all the time made such movements as if he was swallowing some piece stuck in his throat.

Finally, the captain burst into the room, slammed the door and, without looking around, went straight to the table where breakfast was waiting for him.

- Billy! – the stranger said, trying to give his voice firmness and courage.

The captain turned on his heel and found himself directly in front of us. The tan seemed to fade from his face, even his nose turned blue. He had the look of a man who had met a ghost, or the devil, or something worse, if such a thing exists. And, I confess to you, I felt sorry for him - he immediately became so old and flabby.

“Don’t you recognize me, Billy?” Don't you recognize your old shipmate, Billy? - said the stranger.

The captain opened his mouth as if he couldn't breathe.

- Black Dog! – he finally said.

“He’s the one,” answered the stranger, somewhat cheering up. - Black Dog came to visit his old ship friend, his Billy, who lives in the Admiral Benbow inn. Ah, Billy, Billy! How much water has flown under the bridge since I lost my two claws! – he exclaimed, raising his crippled hand.

“Okay,” said the captain. “You tracked me down, and I’m in front of you.” Tell me why you came?

“I recognize you, Billy,” Black Dog replied. -You're right, Billy. This nice little boy, whom I loved so much, will bring me a glass of rum. We will sit with you, if you want, and talk bluntly, directly, like old comrades. Is not it?

When I returned with the bottle, they were already sitting at the captain's table opposite each other.

Black Dog sat sideways, closer to the door, and looked at his old friend with one eye, and with the other at the door, the path to retreat.

He told me to leave and leave the door wide open.

“So that you, son, don’t peek through the keyhole,” he explained.

I left them alone and returned to the counter.

For a long time, despite all my efforts, I heard nothing but indistinct conversation. But little by little the voices became louder, and finally I managed to catch a few words, mainly swearing, coming from the captain’s lips.

Once the captain shouted:

- No no no no! And enough about that! Do you hear?

And then again:

- If it comes to the gallows, then let everyone hang on it!

Then suddenly there was a terrible explosion of curses, the table and benches toppled to the floor with a roar, the steel of blades clanked, someone screamed in pain, and a minute later I saw the Black Dog running as fast as he could towards the door. The captain was chasing him. Their dirks were exposed. Black Dog was bleeding from his left shoulder. Near the door itself, the captain swung his dagger and wanted to inflict another, most terrible blow on the escaping man and would undoubtedly have cut his head in half, but the dagger caught on the large sign of our “Admiral Benbow”. On the sign, below, on the frame itself, you can still see his mark.

This was the end of the battle.

Jumping out onto the road, Black Dog, despite his wound, rushed with such amazing speed that after half a minute he disappeared over the hill. The captain stood and looked at the sign like crazy. Then he passed his hand over his eyes several times and returned to the house.

“Jim,” he ordered, “rum!” “He staggered slightly at these words and leaned his hand against the wall.

-Are you injured? – I exclaimed.

- Roma! - he repeated. - I need to get out of here. Roma! Roma!

I ran to get some rum, but in my excitement I broke the glass and stained the barrel tap with dirt. And while I was putting everything in order and pouring another glass, suddenly I heard something in the hall crash heavily onto the floor. I ran in and saw the captain, who was stretched out to his full length on the floor. My mother, alarmed by the screams and fighting, ran downstairs to help me. We raised the captain's head. He was breathing very loudly and heavily. His eyes were closed, his face turned purple.

“Oh my God,” exclaimed the mother. - What a disgrace for our tavern! And your poor father, as if on purpose, is lying sick!

We did not know how to help the captain, and were sure that he had been mortally wounded during a duel with a stranger. I brought rum and tried to pour it into his mouth. But his strong jaws were clenched like iron.

Fortunately, the door opened and Dr. Livesey, who had come to visit my sick father, entered.

- Doctor, help! - we exclaimed. - What should we do? Where is he injured?

- Injured? - said the doctor. - Nonsense! He is just as wounded as you or me. He just has a blow. What to do! I warned him... Well, Mrs. Hawkins, go back upstairs to your husband and, if you can, don't say anything to him. And I will try to save this thrice unnecessary life... Jim, bring me the basin.

When I returned with the basin, the doctor had already rolled up the captain’s sleeve and exposed his large, muscular arm. The arm was tattooed in many places. There are clear inscriptions on the chenille forearm: “For good luck”, “Tailwind” And "May Billy Bones' dreams come true."

A gallows was drawn near the shoulder with a man hanging from it. This drawing, it seemed to me, was executed with true knowledge of the matter.

“It’s a prophetic picture,” the doctor remarked, touching the image of the gallows with his finger. “And now, Mr. Billy Bones, if that’s really your name, we’ll see what color your blood is... Jim,” he turned to me, “aren’t you afraid of blood?”

“No, sir,” I said.

“Excellent,” said the doctor. - Then hold your pelvis.

He took a lancet and opened the vein.

A lot of blood flowed out of the captain before he opened his eyes and looked around us with a dull gaze. He recognized the doctor and frowned. Then he noticed me and seemed to calm down somewhat. Then he suddenly turned red and, trying to get up, shouted:

-Where is Black Dog?

“There is no dog here except the one sitting behind you,” said the doctor. -You drank too much rum. And then you were struck, as I predicted for you. And I, against my will, pulled you out of the grave. Well, Mister Bones...

“I’m not Bones,” the captain interrupted.

“It doesn’t matter,” said the doctor. “I have a pirate friend whose name is Bonsome, and I gave you this name for shortness. Remember what I tell you: one glass of rum, of course, will not kill you, but if you drink one glass, you will want to drink more and more. And I swear to you on my wig: if you don’t stop drinking, you will die very soon. It's clear? You'll go where you're supposed to go, as the Bible said... Well, try to get up. I'll help you get to bed.

With great difficulty we dragged the captain upstairs and put him to bed. He fell exhausted onto his pillow. He was almost unconscious.

“So remember,” said the doctor, “I tell you in good conscience: the word “rum” and the word “death” mean the same thing to you.

Taking me by the hand, he went to my sick father.

“It’s nothing,” he said as soon as we closed the door behind us. “I let out so much blood from him that he will calm down for a long time.” He spends a week in bed, and this is good for both him and you. But he cannot survive the second blow.

Robert Louis Stevenson

Treasure Island

PART ONE

Old pirate

Chapter 1

OLD SEA WOLF AT THE ADMIRAL BENBOW TIN

Squire Trelawney, Dr. Livesey and other gentlemen asked me to write everything I know about Treasure Island. They want me to tell the whole story, from beginning to end, without hiding any details except geographical location islands. It is currently still impossible to indicate where this island lies, since even now treasures are stored there that we did not take away. And so this year, 17..., I take up my pen and mentally return to the time when my father had the Admiral Benbow tavern and an old tanned sailor with a saber scar on his cheek settled in this tavern.
I remember, as if it were yesterday, how, with heavy steps, he dragged himself to our door, and his sea chest was carried behind him in a wheelbarrow. He was a tall, strong, heavyset man with a dark face. A tarred braid stuck out above the collar of his greasy blue caftan. His hands were rough, with some kind of scars, his nails were black, broken, and the saber scar on his cheek was a dirty white color, with a leaden tint. I remember how the stranger, whistling, looked around our bay and suddenly began to sing an old sailor’s song, which he later sang so often:

Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!

His voice was old man's, rattling, shrill, like a creaky hammer.
And he had a stick like a gunshot. He knocked on our door with this stick and, when my father came out on the threshold, rudely demanded a glass of rum.
The rum was served to him, and with the air of a connoisseur, he began to slowly savor every sip. He drank and looked first at the rocks, then at the inn sign.
“The bay is convenient,” he said finally. - Not a bad place for a tavern. Crowded, buddy?
The father replied that no, unfortunately, very little.
- Well then! - said the sailor. – This one... is just for me... Hey, buddy! - he shouted to the man who was pushing a wheelbarrow behind him. “Come here and help me drag the chest in... I’ll live here for a while,” he continued. - I'm a simple person. Rum, pork belly and fried eggs are all I need. Yes, that cape from which you can see ships passing on the sea... What should you call me? Well, call me captain... Hey, I see what you want! Here!
And he threw three or four gold coins onto the threshold.
“When these are over, you can come and tell me,” he said sternly and looked at his father like a boss.
And indeed, although his clothes were rather poor and his speech was rude, he did not look like a simple sailor. Rather, he could be mistaken for a navigator or skipper who was accustomed to being obeyed. It was felt that he loved to give free rein to his fist. The man with the wheelbarrow told us that the stranger arrived yesterday morning by mail at the King George's Inn and asked there about all the inns located near the sea. Having heard what must have been good reviews about our tavern and learning that it was about to depart, the captain decided to settle with us. That's all we managed to find out about our guest.
He was a silent man. All day long he wandered along the shore of the bay or climbed the rocks with a copper telescope. In the evenings, he sat in the common room in the very corner, by the fire, and drank rum, diluting it slightly with water. He did not answer if anyone spoke to him. He'll just look at you with a fierce look and whistle with his nose, like a ship's siren in the fog. Soon we and our visitors learned to leave him alone. Every day, returning from a walk, he inquired whether any sailors had passed along our road. At first we thought that he missed the company of drunkards like himself. But in the end we began to understand that he wanted to be away from them. If a sailor, making his way along the coast road to Bristol, stopped at the Admiral Benbow, the captain first looked at him from behind the door curtain and only then went out into the drawing room. In the presence of such people, he always sat quietly, like a mouse.

I knew what was going on, because the captain shared his concern with me. One day he took me aside and promised to pay me four pence in silver on the first of every month if I would “keep an eye out for a sailor on one leg somewhere,” and tell him as soon as I saw one. When the first day came and I turned to him for the promised salary, he just blew his nose and looked at me fiercely. But not even a week passed when, having thought about it, he brought me a coin and repeated the order not to miss the “sailor on one leg.”
This one-legged sailor haunted me even in my dreams.
On stormy nights, when the wind shook all four corners of our house, and the surf roared in the bay and in the cliffs, I dreamed of him in a thousand ways, in the form of a thousand different devils. His leg was cut off either at the knee or at the very hip. At times he seemed to me like some kind of terrible monster, with one single leg growing from the very middle of his body. He chased me on this one leg, jumping over fences and ditches. My fourpence each month came at a price: I paid for it with these disgusting dreams.
But no matter how scary the one-legged sailor was for me, I was much less afraid of the captain himself than everyone else. On some evenings he drank so much rum and water that his head was shaking, and then he stayed for a long time in the tavern and sang his old, wild, cruel sea songs, not paying attention to anyone present. And it also happened that he invited everyone to his table and demanded glasses. The invitees trembled with fear, and he forced them either to listen to his stories about sea adventures or to sing along with him in chorus. The walls of our house shook then from “Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum,” since all the visitors, fearing his violent anger, tried to shout out one another and sing as loudly as possible, if only the captain would be pleased with them, because at such hours he was unbridledly menacing: he banged his fist on the table, demanding that everyone shut up; he would become furious if anyone interrupted his speech or asked him any question; then, on the contrary, he became furious if people turned to him with questions, since, in his opinion, this proved that they were not listening to him attentively. He did not let anyone out of the tavern - the company could disperse only when he was overcome by drowsiness from drinking wine and he staggered to his bed.
But most terrible of all were his stories. Horrible tales of gallows, of walking on the plank, of storms and the Dry Tortugas, of robbers' nests and robber exploits in the Spanish Sea.
Judging by his stories, he spent his entire life among the most notorious villains who ever visited the sea. And the abuse that flew out of his mouth after every word frightened our simple-minded village people no less than the crimes he spoke about.
Father constantly insisted that we would have to close our tavern: the captain would drive all visitors away from us. Who wants to be subjected to such bullying and tremble in horror on the way home! However, I think that the captain, on the contrary, brought us rather benefit. True, the visitors were afraid of him, but after a day they were drawn to him again. He brought some kind of pleasant anxiety into the quiet, provincial life. Among the youth there were even fans of the captain who said that they admired him. “A real sea wolf, thoroughly salted by the sea!” - they exclaimed.
According to them, it was people like our captain who made England the terror of the seas.
But, on the other hand, this person really brought us losses. Week after week passed, month after month; the money he gave us upon his appearance had long been spent, and he did not pay new money, and my father did not have the courage to demand it. As soon as the father mentioned the payment, the captain began to snore with fury; it wasn't even a sniffle, but a growl; he looked at his father so much that he flew out of the room in horror. I saw how, after such attempts, he broke his hands in despair. There is no doubt in my mind that these fears greatly hastened my father's sad and untimely death.
During his entire stay with us, the captain wore the same clothes, only he bought several pairs of stockings from a peddler. One edge of his hat was drooping; the captain left it like that, although in the strong wind this was a great inconvenience. I remember well what a tattered caftan he had; No matter how much he repaired it upstairs in his room, in the end the caftan turned into rags.
He never wrote or received any letters from anywhere. And he never talked to anyone, unless he was very drunk. And none of us ever saw him open his chest.
Only once did they dare to contradict the captain, and that happened in the very last days, when my unfortunate father was dying.
One evening Dr. Livesey came to see the patient. He examined the patient, hurriedly ate the lunch my mother had given him, and went down to the common room to smoke a pipe while waiting for the horse to be brought to him. The horse remained in the village, since the old Benbow did not have a stable.
I led him into the common room and remember how this elegant, smartly dressed doctor in a snow-white wig, black-eyed, well-mannered, struck me with his difference from the village bumpkins who visited our tavern. He was especially sharply different from our scarecrow crow, a dirty, gloomy, overweight pirate, who was drunk on rum and sat with his elbows leaning on the table.
Suddenly the captain roared his eternal song:

Fifteen men on a dead man's chest.
Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!
Drink, and the devil will bring you to the end.
Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!

At first I thought that the “dead man’s chest” was the same chest that was upstairs in the captain’s room.
In my nightmares, this chest often appeared in front of me along with a one-legged sailor. But little by little we got so used to this song that we stopped paying attention to it. That evening she was news only to Dr. Livesey and, as I noticed, did not make a pleasant impression on him. He glared at the captain before resuming his conversation with the old gardener, Taylor, about a new treatment for rheumatism. Meanwhile, the captain, inflamed by his own singing, hit the table with his fist. This meant that he demanded silence.
All the voices fell silent at once; only Dr. Livesey continued his good-natured and loud speech, puffing on his pipe after each word. The captain looked at him piercingly, then hit the table with his fist again, then looked even more piercingly and suddenly shouted, accompanying his words with obscene abuse:
- Hey, there, on the deck, be quiet!
-Are you addressing me, sir? - asked the doctor.
He said that it was to him, and then cursed again.
“In that case, sir, I’ll tell you one thing,” replied the doctor. “If you don’t stop drinking, you will soon rid the world of one of the most vile scoundrels!”
The captain flew into a furious rage. He jumped to his feet, pulled out and opened his sailor's penknife and began to threaten the doctor that he would pin him to the wall.
The doctor didn't even move. He continued to talk to him without turning around, over his shoulder, in the same voice - maybe just a little louder so that everyone could hear. Calmly and firmly he said:
“If you don’t put this knife in your pocket right now, I swear on your honor that you will be hanging on the gallows after the first session of our traveling court.”
A duel began between their eyes. But the captain soon gave up. He hid his knife and sank into a chair, grumbling like a beaten dog.
“And now, sir,” continued the doctor, “since I have learned that there is such a person in my district, I will have the strictest supervision over you day and night.” I'm not only a doctor, I'm also a judge. And if even the slightest complaint reaches me - even if only that you were rude to someone... like now - I will take decisive measures to have you taken away and kicked out of here. I won't say anything more.
Soon Dr. Livesey was given a horse and he rode off. But the captain was quiet and humble all evening and remained so for many more evenings in a row.

Chapter 2

BLACK DOG COMES AND GOES

Soon the first of those mysterious events occurred, thanks to which we finally got rid of the captain. But, having gotten rid of him, we did not get rid, as you will see, of his troublesome affairs.
It was a cold winter with long bitter frosts and stormy winds. And from the very beginning it became clear that my poor father would hardly see spring. Every day he became worse. My mother and I had to run the tavern. We had our hands full and paid very little attention to our unpleasant guest.
It was an early frosty January morning. The bay turned gray from frost. Small ripples gently licked the coastal stones. The sun had not yet risen and only touched the tops of the hills and the distance of the sea with its rays. The captain woke up earlier than usual and headed to the sea. Under the wide skirts of his tattered blue caftan a dagger fluttered. He had a telescope under his arm. He pushed his hat back on his head. I remember that steam flew out of his mouth and swirled in the air like smoke. I heard him snort angrily as he disappeared behind a large rock, probably still unable to forget his encounter with Dr. Livesey.
Mother was upstairs with father, and I was setting the breakfast table for the captain's arrival. Suddenly the door opened and a man I had never seen before entered the room.
He was pale, with a sallow face. He was missing two fingers on his left hand. There was nothing warlike about him, although he had a dirk hanging from his belt. I always kept my eye on every sailor, whether he was on one leg or two, and I remember that this man puzzled me very much. He didn't look much like a sailor, and yet I felt that he was a sailor.
I asked him what he wanted and he asked for rum. I rushed out of the room to carry out his orders, but he sat down at the table and again called me to him. I stopped with a napkin in my hand.
“Come here, son,” he said. - Come closer.
I went.
– Is this table set for my comrade, navigator Billy? – he asked grinning.
I replied that I did not know any navigator Billy and that the table was set for one of our guests, whom we call the captain.
“Well,” he said, “my comrade, navigator Billy, can also be called captain.” This doesn't change things. He has a scar on his cheek and is very pleasant, especially when he gets drunk. Here he is, my navigator Billy! Your captain also has a scar on his cheek. And just on the right. So everything is fine, isn't it? So, I would like to know: is my comrade Billy here in this house?
I replied that the captain had gone for a walk.
-Where to, son? Where did he go?
I showed him the rock where the captain visited every day, and said that he would probably return soon.
- And when?
And, after asking me several more different questions, he said at the end:
- Yes, my friend Billy will be as happy with me as with a drink.
However, his face was gloomy at these words, and I had every reason to think that the captain would not be too happy to meet him. But I immediately told myself that this does not concern me. And besides, it was difficult to do anything under such circumstances. The stranger stood at the very front door of the inn and watched the corner of the house, like a cat lying in wait for a mouse. I wanted to go out into the yard, but he immediately called out to me. I did not immediately obey him, and his pale face suddenly became distorted with such anger, and he burst out with such curses that I jumped back in fear. But as soon as I returned, he began to talk to me as before, either flatteringly or mockingly, patted me on the shoulder, told me that I was a nice boy and that he immediately fell in love with me.
“I have a son,” he said, “and you look like him like two peas in a pod.” He is the pride of my parental heart. But for boys, the main thing is obedience. Yes, son, obedience. Now, if you swam with Billy, you wouldn't have to be called twice. Billy never repeated orders, and neither did the others who sailed with him... And here he is, my navigator Billy, with a telescope under his arm, God bless him! Let's go into the hall again, hide behind the door, son, and give Billy a surprise, make Billy happy, God bless him!
With these words, he drove me into the common room, into a corner, and hid me behind his back. We were both obscured by the open door. I was both unpleasant and a little scared, as you can imagine, especially when I noticed that the stranger was a coward himself. He released the handle of his cutlass, pulled it out of its sheath a little and all the time made such movements as if he was swallowing some piece stuck in his throat.
Finally, the captain burst into the room, slammed the door and, without looking around, went straight to the table where breakfast was waiting for him.
- Billy! – the stranger said, trying to give his voice firmness and courage.
The captain turned on his heel and found himself directly in front of us. The tan seemed to fade from his face, even his nose turned blue. He had the look of a man who had met a ghost, or the devil, or something worse, if such a thing exists. And, I confess to you, I felt sorry for him - he immediately became so old and flabby.
“Don’t you recognize me, Billy?” Don't you recognize your old shipmate, Billy? - said the stranger.
The captain opened his mouth as if he couldn't breathe.
- Black Dog! – he finally said.
“He’s the one,” answered the stranger, somewhat cheering up. - Black Dog came to visit his old ship friend, his Billy, who lives in the Admiral Benbow inn. Ah, Billy, Billy! How much water has flown under the bridge since I lost my two claws! – he exclaimed, raising his crippled hand.
“Okay,” said the captain. “You tracked me down, and I’m in front of you.” Tell me why you came?
“I recognize you, Billy,” Black Dog replied. -You're right, Billy. This nice little boy, whom I loved so much, will bring me a glass of rum. We will sit with you, if you want, and talk bluntly, directly, like old comrades. Is not it?
When I returned with the bottle, they were already sitting at the captain's table opposite each other.
Black Dog sat sideways, closer to the door and looked at his old friend with one eye, and with the other at the door, the path to retreat.
He told me to leave and leave the door wide open.
“So that you, son, don’t peek through the keyhole,” he explained.
I left them alone and returned to the counter.
For a long time, despite all my efforts, I heard nothing but indistinct conversation. But little by little the voices became louder, and finally I managed to catch a few words, mainly swearing, coming from the captain’s lips.
Once the captain shouted:
- No no no no! And enough about that! Do you hear?
And then again:
- If it comes to the gallows, then let everyone hang on it!
Then suddenly there was a terrible explosion of curses, the table and benches toppled to the floor with a roar, the steel of blades clanked, someone screamed in pain, and a minute later I saw the Black Dog running as fast as he could towards the door. The captain was chasing him. Their dirks were exposed. The Black Dog was bleeding from his left shoulder. Near the door itself, the captain swung his dagger and wanted to inflict another, most terrible blow on the escaping man and would undoubtedly have cut his head in half, but the dagger caught on the large sign of our “Admiral Benbow”. On the sign, below, on the frame itself, you can still see his mark.
This was the end of the battle.
Jumping out onto the road, Black Dog, despite his wound, rushed with such amazing speed that after half a minute he disappeared over the hill. The captain stood and looked at the sign like crazy. Then he passed his hand over his eyes several times and returned to the house.
“Jim,” he ordered, “rum!”
He staggered slightly at these words and leaned his hand against the wall.
-Are you injured? – I exclaimed.
- Roma! - he repeated. - I need to get out of here. Roma! Roma!
I ran to get some rum, but in my excitement I broke the glass and stained the barrel tap with dirt. And while I was putting everything in order and pouring another glass, suddenly I heard something in the hall crash heavily onto the floor. I ran in and saw the captain, who was stretched out to his full length on the floor. My mother, alarmed by the screams and fighting, ran downstairs to help me. We raised the captain's head. He was breathing very loudly and heavily. His eyes were closed, his face turned purple.
- My God! - exclaimed the mother. - What a disgrace for our tavern! And your poor father, as if on purpose, is lying sick!
We did not know how to help the captain, and were sure that he had been mortally wounded during a duel with a stranger. I brought rum and tried to pour it into his mouth. But his strong jaws were clenched like iron.
Fortunately, the door opened and Dr. Livesey, who had come to visit my sick father, entered.
- Doctor, help! - we exclaimed. - What should we do? Where is he injured?
- Injured? - said the doctor. - Nonsense! He's just as hurt as you or me. He just has a blow. What to do! I warned him... Well, Mrs. Hawkins, go back upstairs to your husband and, if you can, don't say anything to him. And I will try to save this thrice unnecessary life... Jim, bring me the basin.
When I returned with the basin, the doctor had already rolled up the captain’s sleeve and exposed his large, muscular arm. The arm was tattooed in many places. There are clear inscriptions on the chenille forearm: “For good luck”, “Tailwind” And "May Billy Bones' dreams come true."
A gallows was drawn near the shoulder with a man hanging from it. This drawing, it seemed to me, was executed with true knowledge of the matter.
“It’s a prophetic picture,” the doctor remarked, touching the image of the gallows with his finger. “And now, Mr. Billy Bones, if that’s really your name, we’ll see what color your blood is... Jim,” he turned to me, “aren’t you afraid of blood?”
“No, sir,” I said.
“Excellent,” said the doctor. - Then hold your pelvis.
He took a lancet and opened the vein.
A lot of blood flowed out of the captain before he opened his eyes and looked around us with a dull gaze. He recognized the doctor and frowned. Then he noticed me and seemed to calm down somewhat. Then he suddenly turned red and, trying to get up, shouted:
-Where is Black Dog?
“There is no dog here except the one sitting behind you,” said the doctor. -You drank too much rum. And then you were struck, as I predicted for you. And I, against my will, pulled you out of the grave. Well, Mister Bones...
“I’m not Bones,” the captain interrupted.
“It doesn’t matter,” said the doctor. “I have a pirate friend whose name is Bonsome, and I gave you this name for shortness. Remember what I tell you: one glass of rum, of course, will not kill you, but if you drink one glass, you will want to drink more and more. And I swear to you on my wig: if you don’t stop drinking, you will die very soon. It's clear? You'll go where you're supposed to go, as the Bible said... Well, try to get up. I'll help you get to bed.
With great difficulty we dragged the captain upstairs and put him to bed. He fell exhausted onto his pillow. He was almost unconscious.
“So remember,” said the doctor, “I tell you with a clear conscience: the word “rum” and the word “death” mean the same thing to you.
Taking me by the hand, he went to my sick father.
“It’s nothing,” he said as soon as we closed the door behind us. “I let out so much blood from him that he will calm down for a long time.” He spends a week in bed, and this is good for both him and you. But he cannot survive the second blow.

Chapter 3

BLACK LABEL

About noon I went to the captain with a cold drink and medicine. He lay in the same position as we had left him, only a little higher. He seemed very weak and at the same time very excited.
“Jim,” he said, “you’re the only one worth anything here.” And you know: I have always been kind to you. Every month I gave you four pence in silver. You see, friend, I feel bad, I’m sick and abandoned by everyone! And, Jim, you'll bring me a glass of rum, won't you?
“Doctor...” I began.
But he began to scold the doctor - in a weak voice, but very angrily.
“All doctors are landlubbers,” he said. - And this doctor of yours here - what does he understand about sailors? I have been to countries where it was as hot as boiling tar, where people fell from the Yellow Jack, and earthquakes rocked the land like a sea wave. What does your doctor know about these places? And I lived only on rum, yes! Rum was meat, water, wife and friend for me. And if I don't drink rum now, I'll be like poor old ship washed ashore by a storm. And my blood will be on you, Jim, and on this rat, on the doctor...

ADVENTURE LIBRARY

AND SCIENCE FICTION

NOVOSIBIRSK ~ 1991

R. L. STEVENSON

TREASURE ISLAND

BLACK ARROW

STRANGE STORY

THE DOCTORS

JEKYL

MISTER

HAIDA

TRANSLATION FROM ENGLISH

"CHILDREN'S LITERATURE"

Siberian branch

BBK 84. 4 Vl .

WITH 80

Robert Lewis Stevenson

In 30 Vol.- London: Heinemann,

1924-1926.

Translation H . CHUKOVSKY

Drawings by G. BROCK

PART ONE

OLD PIRATE

CHAPTER I

Old sea wolf

at the Admiral Benbow Inn

Quire¹ Trelawney, Dr. Livesey and other gentlemen asked me to write everything I know about Treasure Island. They want me to tell the whole story, from beginning to end, without hiding any details except the geographical location of the island. It is currently still impossible to indicate where this island lies, since even now treasures are stored there that we did not remove from there. And so this year, 17..., I take up my pen and mentally return to the time when my father had the Admiral Benbow tavern² and an old tanned sailor with a saber scar on his cheek settled in this tavern.

[¹Squire is a title of nobility in England.]

[²Benbow was an English admiral who lived at the end of the 17th century.]

I remember, as if it were yesterday, how, with heavy steps, he dragged himself to our door, and his sea chest was carried behind him in a wheelbarrow. He was a tall, strong, heavyset man with a dark face. A tarred braid stuck out above the collar of his greasy blue caftan. His hands were rough, with some kind of scars, his nails were black, broken, and the saber scar on his cheek was off-white, with a leaden tint. I remember how the stranger, whistling, looked around our bay and suddenly began to sing an old sailor’s song, which he later sang so often:

Fifteen men on a dead man's chest.

[¹Vampovka - lever of the capstan (gate used to raise the anchor).]

And his stick was like a gun¹. He knocked on our door with this stick and, when my father came out on the threshold, rudely demanded a glass of rum.

[¹Handspike - a lever for lifting weights.]

The rum was served to him, and with the air of a connoisseur, he began to slowly savor every sip. He drank and looked first at the rocks, then at the inn sign.

The bay is convenient,” he said finally. “It’s not a bad place for a tavern.” Crowded, buddy?

The father replied that no, unfortunately, very little.

Well then! - said the sailor. - This anchorage is just for me... Hey, brother! - he shouted to the man who was rolling a wheelbarrow behind him. - Pull up here and help me drag the chest... I’ll live here a little, - he continued. - Man I'm simple. Rum, pork belly, fried eggs - that's all I need. Yes, that cape from which you can see ships passing on the sea... What should you call me? Well, call me captain... Hey, I see what you want! Here!

And he threw three or four gold coins onto the threshold.

“When these are over, you can come and tell me,” he said menacingly and looked at his father with the air of a commander.

And indeed, although his clothes were rather poor and his speech was rude, he did not look like a simple sailor. Rather, he could be mistaken for a navigator or skipper who is used to being obeyed and loves to give free rein to his fist. The man with the wheelbarrow told us that the stranger arrived yesterday morning by mail at the King George's Inn and inquired there about all the inns located near the sea. Apparently, having heard good reviews about our tavern and learned that it was on its way out, the captain decided to settle with us. That's all we managed to find out about our guest.

He was a silent man. All day long he wandered along the shore of the bay or climbed the rocks with a copper telescope. In the evenings, he sat in the common room in the very corner, by the fire, and drank rum, diluting it slightly with water. He did not answer if anyone spoke to him. He'll just look at you with a fierce look and whistle with his nose, like a ship's siren in the fog. Soon we and our visitors learned to leave him alone. Every day, returning from a walk, he inquired whether any sailors had passed along our road. At first we thought that he missed the company of drunkards like himself. But in the end we began to understand that he wanted to be away from them. If a sailor, making his way along the coast road to Bristol, stopped at the Admiral Benbow, the captain first looked at him from behind the door curtain and only then went out into the drawing room. In the presence of such people, he always sat quietly, like a mouse.

I knew what was going on, because the captain shared his concern with me. One day he took me aside and promised to pay me first

on the day of each month, four pence in silver, if I “look with both eyes to see if a sailor “on one leg” appears somewhere, and inform him as soon as I see one. When the first day came and I turned to him for the promised salary, he just blew his nose and looked at me fiercely. But not even a week passed when, having thought about it, he brought me a coin and repeated the order not to miss the “sailor on one leg.”

Well, I had a lot of fear with this one-legged sailor! He haunted me even in my dreams. On stormy nights, when the wind shook all four corners of our house, and the surf roared in the bay and in the cliffs, I dreamed of him in a thousand ways, in the form of a thousand different devils. His leg was cut off either at the knee or at the very hip. At times he seemed to me like some kind of terrible monster, with one single leg growing from the very middle of his body. He chased me on this one leg, jumping over fences and ditches. My fourpence each month came at a price: I paid for it with these disgusting dreams.

But no matter how scary the one-legged sailor was for me, I was much less afraid of the captain himself than everyone else. On some evenings he drank so much rum and water that his head was shaking, and then he stayed for a long time in the tavern and sang his old, wild, cruel sea songs, not paying attention to anyone present. And it also happened that he invited everyone to his table, demanded glasses and forced his timid drinking companions to either listen to his stories about sea adventures or sing along with him in chorus. The walls of our house shook then from “Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum,” since all the visitors, fearing his violent anger, tried to shout out one another and sing as loudly as possible, if only the captain would be pleased with them, because at such hours he was unbridledly menacing: he banged his fist on the table, demanding that everyone shut up; he would become furious if anyone interrupted his speech or asked him any question; then, on the contrary, he became furious if no questions were addressed to him, since, in his opinion, this proved that they were not listening to him attentively. He did not let anyone out of the tavern - the company could disperse only when he was overcome by drowsiness from drinking wine and he staggered to his bed.

But most terrible of all were his stories. Horrible tales of gallows, of walking on the plank¹, of storms and the islands of Dry Tortugas², of robbers' nests and robber exploits in the Spanish Sea³.

Chapter 1

OLD SEA WOLF AT THE ADMIRAL BENBOW TIN

And he had a stick like a gunshot. He knocked on our door with this stick and, when my father came out on the threshold, rudely demanded a glass of rum.

The rum was served to him, and with the air of a connoisseur, he began to slowly savor every sip. He drank and looked first at the rocks, then at the inn sign.

“The bay is convenient,” he said finally. - Not a bad place for a tavern. Crowded, buddy?

The father replied that no, unfortunately, very little.

- Well then! - said the sailor. – This one... is just for me... Hey, buddy! - he shouted to the man who was pushing a wheelbarrow behind him. “Come here and help me drag the chest in... I’ll live here for a while,” he continued. - I'm a simple person. Rum, pork belly and fried eggs are all I need. Yes, that cape from which you can see ships passing on the sea... What should you call me? Well, call me captain... Hey, I see what you want! Here!

And he threw three or four gold coins onto the threshold.

“When these are over, you can come and tell me,” he said sternly and looked at his father like a boss.

And indeed, although his clothes were rather poor and his speech was rude, he did not look like a simple sailor. Rather, he could be mistaken for a navigator or skipper who was accustomed to being obeyed. It was felt that he loved to give free rein to his fist. The man with the wheelbarrow told us that the stranger arrived yesterday morning by mail at the King George's Inn and asked there about all the inns located near the sea. Having heard what must have been good reviews about our tavern and learning that it was about to depart, the captain decided to settle with us. That's all we managed to find out about our guest.

He was a silent man. All day long he wandered along the shore of the bay or climbed the rocks with a copper telescope. In the evenings, he sat in the common room in the very corner, by the fire, and drank rum, diluting it slightly with water. He did not answer if anyone spoke to him. He'll just look at you with a fierce look and whistle with his nose, like a ship's siren in the fog. Soon we and our visitors learned to leave him alone. Every day, returning from a walk, he inquired whether any sailors had passed along our road. At first we thought that he missed the company of drunkards like himself. But in the end we began to understand that he wanted to be away from them. If a sailor, making his way along the coast road to Bristol, stopped at the Admiral Benbow, the captain first looked at him from behind the door curtain and only then went out into the drawing room. In the presence of such people, he always sat quietly, like a mouse.

I knew what was going on, because the captain shared his concern with me. One day he took me aside and promised to pay me four pence in silver on the first of every month if I would “keep an eye out for a sailor on one leg somewhere,” and tell him as soon as I saw one. When the first day came and I turned to him for the promised salary, he just blew his nose and looked at me fiercely. But not even a week passed when, having thought about it, he brought me a coin and repeated the order not to miss the “sailor on one leg.”

This one-legged sailor haunted me even in my dreams.

On stormy nights, when the wind shook all four corners of our house, and the surf roared in the bay and in the cliffs, I dreamed of him in a thousand ways, in the form of a thousand different devils. His leg was cut off either at the knee or at the very hip. At times he seemed to me like some kind of terrible monster, with one single leg growing from the very middle of his body. He chased me on this one leg, jumping over fences and ditches. My fourpence each month came at a price: I paid for it with these disgusting dreams.

But no matter how scary the one-legged sailor was for me, I was much less afraid of the captain himself than everyone else. On some evenings he drank so much rum and water that his head was shaking, and then he stayed for a long time in the tavern and sang his old, wild, cruel sea songs, not paying attention to anyone present. And it also happened that he invited everyone to his table and demanded glasses. The invitees trembled with fear, and he forced them either to listen to his stories about sea adventures or to sing along with him in chorus. The walls of our house shook then from “Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum,” since all the visitors, fearing his violent anger, tried to shout out one another and sing as loudly as possible, if only the captain would be pleased with them, because at such hours he was unbridledly menacing: he banged his fist on the table, demanding that everyone shut up; he would become furious if anyone interrupted his speech or asked him any question; then, on the contrary, he became furious if people turned to him with questions, since, in his opinion, this proved that they were not listening to him attentively. He did not let anyone out of the tavern - the company could disperse only when he was overcome by drowsiness from drinking wine and he staggered to his bed.

But most terrible of all were his stories. Horrible tales of gallows, of walking on the plank, of storms and the Dry Tortugas, of robbers' nests and robber exploits in the Spanish Sea.

Judging by his stories, he spent his entire life among the most notorious villains who ever visited the sea. And the abuse that flew out of his mouth after every word frightened our simple-minded village people no less than the crimes he spoke about.

Father constantly insisted that we would have to close our tavern: the captain would drive all visitors away from us. Who wants to be subjected to such bullying and tremble in horror on the way home! However, I think that the captain, on the contrary, brought us rather benefit. True, the visitors were afraid of him, but after a day they were drawn to him again. He brought some kind of pleasant anxiety into the quiet, provincial life. Among the youth there were even fans of the captain who said that they admired him. “A real sea wolf, thoroughly salted by the sea!” - they exclaimed.

1. OLD SEA WOLF AT THE ADMIRAL BENBOW TIN
Squire note 1 Trelawney, Dr. Livesey and other gentlemen asked me to write everything I know about Treasure Island. They want me to tell the whole story, from beginning to end, without hiding any details except the geographical location of the island. It is currently still impossible to indicate where this island lies, since even now treasures are stored there that we did not take away. And so this year, 17..., I take up my pen and mentally return to the time when my father had the Admiral Benbow tavern and an old tanned sailor with a saber scar on his cheek settled in this tavern.
I remember, as if it were yesterday, how, with heavy steps, he dragged himself to our door, and his sea chest was carried behind him in a wheelbarrow. He was a tall, strong, heavyset man with a dark face. A tarred braid stuck out above the collar of his greasy blue caftan. His hands were rough, with some kind of scars, his nails were black, broken, and the saber scar on his cheek was off-white, with a leaden tint. I remember how the stranger, whistling, looked around our bay and suddenly began to sing an old sailor’s song, which he later sang so often:

Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!
His voice was old man's, rattling, shrill, like a creaky hammer.
And he had a stick, like a gunshot. He knocked on our door with this stick and, when my father came out on the threshold, rudely demanded a glass of rum.
The rum was served to him, and with the air of a connoisseur, he began to slowly savor every sip. He drank and looked first at the rocks, then at the inn sign.
“The bay is convenient,” he said finally. - Not a bad place for a tavern. Crowded, buddy?
The father replied that no, unfortunately, very little.
- Well then! - said the sailor. - This one... is just for me... Hey, buddy! - he shouted to the man who was pushing a wheelbarrow behind him. - Come here and help me drag the chest... I’ll live here for a while,
- he continued. - I'm a simple person. Rum, pork belly and fried eggs - that's all I need. Yes, that cape from which you can see ships passing on the sea... What should you call me? Well, call me captain... Hey, I see what you want! Here!
And he threw three or four gold coins onto the threshold.
“When these are over, you can come and tell me,” he said sternly and looked at his father like a boss.
And indeed, although his clothes were rather poor and his speech was rude, he did not look like a simple sailor. Rather, he could be mistaken for a navigator or skipper who was accustomed to being obeyed. It was felt that he loved to give free rein to his fist. The man with the wheelbarrow told us that the stranger arrived yesterday morning by mail at the King George's Inn and asked there about all the inns located near the sea. Having heard what must have been good reviews about our tavern and learning that it was about to depart, the captain decided to settle with us. That's all we managed to find out about our guest.
He was a silent man. All day long he wandered along the shore of the bay or climbed the rocks with a copper telescope. In the evenings, he sat in the common room in the very corner, by the fire, and drank rum, diluting it slightly with water. He did not answer if anyone spoke to him. He'll just look at you with a fierce look and whistle with his nose, like a ship's siren in the fog. Soon we and our visitors learned to leave him alone. Every day, returning from a walk, he inquired whether any sailors had passed along our road. At first we thought that he missed the company of drunkards like himself. But in the end we began to understand that he wanted to be away from them. If a sailor, making his way along the coast road to Bristol, stopped at the Admiral Benbow, the captain first looked at him from behind the door curtain and only then went out into the drawing room. In the presence of such people, he always sat quietly, like a mouse.
I knew what was going on, because the captain shared his concern with me. One day he took me aside and promised to pay me four pence in silver on the first of every month if I would “keep an eye out for a sailor on one leg somewhere,” and tell him as soon as I saw one. When the first day came and I turned to him for the promised salary, he just blew his nose and looked at me fiercely. But not even a week passed when, having thought about it, he brought me a coin and repeated the order not to miss the “sailor on one leg.”
This one-legged sailor haunted me even in my dreams.
On stormy nights, when the wind shook all four corners of our house, and the surf roared in the bay and in the cliffs, I dreamed of him in a thousand ways, in the form of a thousand different devils. His leg was cut off either at the knee or at the very hip. At times he seemed to me like some kind of terrible monster, with one single leg growing from the very middle of his body. He chased me on this one leg, jumping over fences and ditches. My fourpence each month came at a price: I paid for it with these disgusting dreams.
But no matter how scary the one-legged sailor was for me, I was much less afraid of the captain himself than everyone else. On some evenings he drank so much rum and water that his head was shaking, and then he stayed for a long time in the tavern and sang his old, wild, cruel sea songs, not paying attention to anyone present. And it also happened that he invited everyone to his table and demanded glasses. The invitees trembled with fear, and he forced them either to listen to his stories about sea adventures or to sing along with him in chorus. The walls of our house shook then from “Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum,” since all the visitors, fearing his violent anger, tried to shout out one another and sing as loudly as possible, if only the captain would be pleased with them, because at such hours he was unbridledly menacing: he banged his fist on the table, demanding that everyone shut up; he would become furious if anyone interrupted his speech or asked him any question; then, on the contrary, he became furious if people turned to him with questions, since, in his opinion, this proved that they were not listening to him attentively. He did not let anyone out of the tavern - the company could disperse only when he was overcome by drowsiness from drinking wine and he staggered to his bed.
But most terrible of all were his stories. Horrible tales of gallows, of walking on the plank note 5, of storms and the Dry Tortugas note 6, of robbers' nests and robber exploits in the Spanish Sea note 7.
Judging by his stories, he spent his entire life among the most notorious villains who ever visited the sea. And the abuse that flew out of his mouth after every word frightened our simple-minded village people no less than the crimes he spoke about.
Father constantly insisted that we would have to close our tavern: the captain would drive all visitors away from us. Who wants to be subjected to such bullying and tremble in horror on the way home! However, I think that the captain, on the contrary, brought us rather benefit. True, the visitors were afraid of him, but after a day they were drawn to him again. He brought some kind of pleasant anxiety into the quiet, provincial life. Among the youth there were even fans of the captain who said that they admired him. “A real sea wolf, thoroughly salted by the sea! - they exclaimed.
According to them, it was people like our captain who made England the terror of the seas.
But, on the other hand, this person really brought us losses. Week after week passed, month after month; the money he gave us upon his appearance had long been spent, and he did not pay new money, and my father did not have the courage to demand it. As soon as the father mentioned the payment, the captain began to snore with fury; it wasn't even a sniffle, but a growl; he looked at his father so much that he flew out of the room in horror. I saw how, after such attempts, he broke his hands in despair. There is no doubt in my mind that these fears greatly hastened my father's sad and untimely death.
During his entire stay with us, the captain wore the same clothes, only he bought several pairs of stockings from a peddler. One edge of his hat was drooping; the captain left it like that, although in the strong wind this was a great inconvenience. I remember well what a tattered caftan he had; No matter how much he repaired it upstairs in his room, in the end the caftan turned into rags.
He never wrote or received any letters from anywhere. And he never talked to anyone, unless he was very drunk. And none of us ever saw him open his chest.
Only once did they dare to contradict the captain, and that happened in the very last days, when my unfortunate father was dying.
One evening Dr. Livesey came to see the patient. He examined the patient, hurriedly ate the lunch my mother had given him, and went down to the common room to smoke a pipe while waiting for the horse to be brought to him. The horse remained in the village, since the old Benbow did not have a stable.
I led him into the common room and remember how this elegant, smartly dressed doctor in a snow-white wig, black-eyed, well-mannered, struck me with his difference from the village bumpkins who visited our tavern. He was especially sharply different from our scarecrow crow, a dirty, gloomy, overweight pirate, who was drunk on rum and sat with his elbows leaning on the table.
Suddenly the captain roared his eternal song:
Fifteen men on a dead man's chest.
Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!
Drink, and the devil will bring you to the end.
Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!
At first I thought that the “dead man’s chest” was the same chest that was upstairs in the captain’s room.
In my nightmares, this chest often appeared in front of me along with a one-legged sailor. But little by little we got so used to this song that we stopped paying attention to it. That evening she was news only to Dr. Livesey and, as I noticed, did not make a pleasant impression on him. He glared at the captain before resuming his conversation with the old gardener, Taylor, about a new treatment for rheumatism. Meanwhile, the captain, inflamed by his own singing, hit the table with his fist. This meant that he demanded silence.
All the voices fell silent at once; only Dr. Livesey continued his good-natured and loud speech, puffing on his pipe after each word. The captain looked at him piercingly, then hit the table with his fist again, then looked even more piercingly and suddenly shouted, accompanying his words with obscene abuse:
- Hey, there, on the deck, be silent!
- Are you addressing me, sir? - asked the doctor.
He said that it was to him, and then cursed again.
“In that case, sir, I’ll tell you one thing,” answered the doctor. “If you don’t stop drinking, you will soon rid the world of one of the most vile scoundrels!”
The captain flew into a furious rage. He jumped to his feet, pulled out and opened his sailor's penknife and began to threaten the doctor that he would pin him to the wall.
The doctor didn't even move. He continued to talk to him without turning around, over his shoulder, in the same voice - maybe just a little louder so that everyone could hear. Calmly and firmly he said:
“If you don’t put this knife in your pocket right now, I swear on your honor that you will be hanging on the gallows after the first session of our traveling court.”
A duel began between their eyes. But the captain soon gave up. He hid his knife and sank into a chair, grumbling like a beaten dog.
“And now, sir,” continued the doctor, “since I have learned that there is such a person in my district, I will have the strictest supervision over you day and night.” I'm not only a doctor, I'm also a judge. And if even the slightest complaint reaches me - even if only that you were rude to someone... like now - I will take decisive measures to have you taken away and kicked out of here. I won't say anything more.
Soon Dr. Livesey was given a horse and he rode off. But the captain was quiet and humble all evening and remained so for many more evenings in a row.