Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson

Treasure Island 

by Robert Louis Stevenson 

TREASURE ISLAND 

To S.L.O., an American gentleman in accordance with whose classic taste the following narrative has been designed, it is now, in return for numerous delightful hours, and with the kindest wishes, dedicated by his affectionate friend, the author. 

TO THE HESITATING PURCHASER 

If sailor tales to sailor tunes, Storm and adventure, heat and cold, If schooners, islands, and maroons, And buccaneers, and buried gold, And all the old romance, retold Exactly in the ancient way, Can please, as me they pleased of old, The wiser youngsters of today: 

--So be it, and fall on! If not, If studious youth no longer crave, His ancient appetites forgot, Kingston, or Ballantyne the brave, Or Cooper of the wood and wave: So be it, also! And may I And all my pirates share the grave Where these and their creations lie! 

CONTENTS 

PART ONE The Old Buccaneer 

1. THE OLD SEA-DOG AT THE ADMIRAL BENBOW 11 2. BLACK DOG APPEARS AND DISAPPEARS . . . . 17 3. THE BLACK SPOT . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24 4. THE SEA-CHEST . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30 5. THE LAST OF THE BLIND MAN . . . . . . . 36 6. THE CAPTAIN'S PAPERS . . . . . . . . . . 41 

PART TWO The Sea Cook 

7. I GO TO BRISTOL . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48 8. AT THE SIGN OF THE SPY-GLASS . . . . . . . 54 9. POWDER AND ARMS . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59 10. THE VOYAGE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 64 11. WHAT I HEARD IN THE APPLE BARREL . . . . 70 12. COUNCIL OF WAR . . . . . . . . . . . . . 76 

PART THREE My Shore Adventure 

13. HOW MY SHORE ADVENTURE BEGAN . . . . . . 82 14. THE FIRST BLOW . . . . . . . . . . . . . 87 15. THE MAN OF THE ISLAND. . . . . . . . . . 93 

PART FOUR The Stockade 

16. NARRATIVE CONTINUED BY THE DOCTOR: HOW THE SHIP WAS ABANDONED . . . . . . 100 17. NARRATIVE CONTINUED BY THE DOCTOR: THE JOLLY-BOAT'S LAST TRIP . . . . . . 105 18. NARRATIVE CONTINUED BY THE DOCTOR: END OF THE FIRST DAY'S FIGHTING . . . 109 19. NARRATIVE RESUMED BY JIM HAWKINS: THE GARRISON IN THE STOCKADE . . . . . 114 20. SILVER'S EMBASSY . . . . . . . . . . . . 120 21. THE ATTACK . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 125 

PART FIVE My Sea Adventure 

22. HOW MY SEA ADVENTURE BEGAN . . . . . . . 132 23. THE EBB-TIDE RUNS . . . . . . . . . . . 138 24. THE CRUISE OF THE CORACLE . . . . . . . 143 25. I STRIKE THE JOLLY ROGER . . . . . . . . 148 26. ISRAEL HANDS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 153 27. "PIECES OF EIGHT" . . . . . . . . . . . 161 

PART SIX Captain Silver 

28. IN THE ENEMY'S CAMP . . . . . . . . . . 168 29. THE BLACK SPOT AGAIN . . . . . . . . . . 176 30. ON PAROLE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 182 31. THE TREASURE-HUNT--FLINT'S POINTER . . . 189 32. THE TREASURE-HUNT--THE VOICE AMONG THE TREES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 195 33. THE FALL OF A CHIEFTAIN . . . . . . . . 201 34. AND LAST . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 207 

TREASURE ISLAND 

PART ONE--The Old Buccaneer 

1 

The Old Sea-dog at the Admiral Benbow 

SQUIRE TRELAWNEY, Dr. Livesey, and the rest of these gentlemen having asked me to write down the whole particulars about Treasure Island, from the beginning to the end, keeping nothing back but the bearings of the island, and that only because there is still treasure not yet lifted, I take up my pen in the year of grace 17__ and go back to the time when my father kept the Admiral Benbow inn and the brown old seaman with the sabre cut first took up his lodging under our roof. 

I remember him as if it were yesterday, as he came plodding to the inn door, his sea-chest following behind him in a hand-barrow--a tall, strong, heavy, nut-brown man, his tarry pigtail falling over the shoulder of his soiled blue coat, his hands ragged and scarred, with black, broken nails, and the sabre cut across one cheek, a dirty, livid white. I remember him looking round the cover and whistling to himself as he did so, and then breaking out in that old sea-song that he sang so often afterwards: 

"Fifteen men on the dead man's chest-- Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!" 

in the high, old tottering voice that seemed to have been tuned and broken at the capstan bars. Then he rapped on the door with a bit of stick like a handspike that he carried, and when my father appeared, called roughly for a glass of rum. This, when it was brought to him, he drank slowly, like a connoisseur, lingering on the taste and still looking about him at the cliffs and up at our signboard. 

"This is a handy cove," says he at length; "and a pleasant sittyated grog-shop. Much company, mate?" 

My father told him no, very little company, the more was the pity.