Mikhail Roshchin Treasure Island read. And science fiction

Robert Louis Stevenson

Treasure Island

PART ONE

old pirate

Chapter 1

OLD SEAL AT THE ADMIRAL BENBOW TANNER

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

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

“The bay is comfortable,” he said at last. “Good place for a tavern. Lots of people, mate?

The father replied that no, unfortunately, very little.

- Well, what! the sailor said. “This one… just right for me… Hey, buddy! he shouted to the man who was pushing the wheelbarrow behind him. “Come over here and help me drag the chest… I’ll stay here for a while,” he continued. - I am a simple person. Rum, pork belly and scrambled eggs, that's all I need. Yes, there is that cape from which ships passing through the sea are visible ... What should I be called? Well, call me captain... Ege, I see what you want! Here!

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

“When these run out, 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 used to being obeyed. It was felt that he liked to give free rein to his fist. The man with the wheelbarrow told us that the stranger had arrived yesterday morning by post at the King George's Inn and asked about all the inns near the sea. Hearing about our inn, it must be good feedback and having learned that he was on departure, the captain decided to lodge with us. That's all we managed to find out about our guest.

He was a silent man. For whole days 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, slightly diluting it with water. He did not answer if spoken to. Only he will cast a fierce glance 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 if any sailors were passing along our road. At first we thought that he lacked the company of the same boobies as himself. But in the end, we began to understand that he wanted to be away from them. If any sailor, making his way along the coastal road to Bristol, stopped at the Admiral Benbow, the captain would first look at him from behind the curtain of the door, and only then would he go out into the drawing room. In the presence of such people, he always sat quietly as a mouse.

I knew what was the matter, because the captain shared his anxiety with me. One day he took me aside and promised to pay me fourpence silver on the first of every month if I "look in both eyes for a sailor on one leg" and let him know as soon as I saw one. When the first day came and I turned to him for the promised salary, he only blew his nose and glared at me savagely. But not even a week passed, when, after thinking, he brought me a coin and repeated the order not to let the "sailor on one leg" pass.

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 at the knee, at the very hip. Sometimes he seemed to me like some kind of terrible monster, in which one and only leg grows from the very middle of the body. He chased me on that one leg, jumping over wattle fences and ditches. My fourpence was dear to me every month: I paid for it with these disgusting dreams.

But no matter how terrible 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 shook, and then he would remain for a long time in the tavern and sing his old, wild, cruel sea songs, paying no attention to anyone present. And it also happened that he invited everyone to his table and demanded glasses. Those invited trembled with fright, and he forced them either to listen to his stories of sea adventures, or to sing along with him in chorus. The walls of our house then trembled from "Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum," as all the visitors, fearing his violent anger, tried to shout over each other and sing as loudly as possible, if only the captain was pleased with them, because at such hours he was unbridledly formidable: now he pounded his fist on the table, demanding that everyone be silent; then he would become furious if someone interrupted his speech, asked him some question; then, on the contrary, he became furious if he was addressed 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 drunk wine and he staggered to his bed.

But the worst of all were his stories. Terrible tales of gallows, plank-walking, storms and Dry Tortugas, robber nests and robber exploits in the Spanish Sea.

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

Father constantly said that we would have to close our tavern: the captain would drive away all the visitors from us. Who wants to be subjected to such abuse and tremble with horror on the way home! However, I think that the captain, on the contrary, brought us more benefits. True, the visitors were afraid of him, but a day later they were again drawn to him. In a quiet, provincial life, he introduced some kind of pleasant anxiety. Among the youth there were even admirers of the captain, who declared that they admired him. "A real sea wolf, salted through the sea!" they exclaimed.

According to them, it was people like our captain who made England a thunderstorm on the seas.

But, on the other hand, this person really brought us losses. Week after week, month after month; the money that he gave us when he appeared had long since 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 hinted at the payment, the captain began to sniff furiously; it was not even a sniff, but a growl; he looked at his father so that he flew out of the room in horror. I saw how, after such attempts, he wringed his hands in despair. I have no doubt that these fears greatly hastened my father's sad and untimely death.

Throughout his stay with us, the captain went about in the same clothes, he only bought a few pairs of stockings from a peddler. One edge of his hat drooped; the captain left it like that, although in a strong wind it 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 have ever seen 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 the patient. He examined the patient, ate hastily the dinner my mother gave 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, as there was no stable in the old Benbow.

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

Suddenly the captain roared his eternal song:

Fifteen men for a dead man's chest.

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

Drink and the devil will take you to the end.

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

At first, I thought that the "dead man's chest" was the chest that was upstairs in the captain's room.

In my terrible dreams, 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. This 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 cure for rheumatism. Meanwhile the captain, inflamed by his own singing, struck 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 again struck the table with his fist, then looked even more piercingly and suddenly yelled, accompanying his words with obscene abuse:

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

Are you talking to me, sir? the doctor asked.

He said that it was for him, and, moreover, cursed again.

"In that case, sir, I'll tell you one thing," replied the doctor. - If you do not stop drinking, you will soon rid the world of one of the most vile scoundrels!

The captain flew into a violent rage. He sprang to his feet, drew and opened his sailor's folding knife, and threatened 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 away, I swear on your honor that you will hang on the gallows after the first session of our circuit court.

A duel began between their eyes. But the captain soon gave up. He put away 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 am not only a doctor, I am 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 drastic measures to have you taken away and kicked out of here. I won't say anything more.

Soon a horse was brought to Dr. Livesey, and he galloped away. But the captain was quiet and meek 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 happened, thanks to which we finally got rid of the captain. But, having got rid of him, we have not got rid, as you will see for yourself, 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 got worse. My mother and I had to run the tavern. We were busy and paid very little attention to our unpleasant guest.

It was an early cold January morning. The bay turned gray from hoarfrost. Small ripples gently licked the coastal stones. The sun had not yet had time to rise and only touched with its rays the tops of the hills and the sea distance. The captain woke up earlier than usual and headed for the sea. Under the wide skirts of his tattered blue caftan a dagger waved. He had a telescope under his arm. He pushed his hat to the back of his head. I remember steam coming out of his mouth and billowing in the air like smoke. I heard him snort angrily as he hid behind a large cliff—probably still unable to forget his encounter with Dr. Livesey.

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

He was pale, with a sallow face. He was missing two fingers on his left hand. There was nothing militant about him, although he had a dagger hanging from his belt. I always kept a close eye on every sailor, whether he was on one leg or two, and I remember that this man puzzled me very much. He looked little like a sailor, and yet I felt that he was a sailor.

I asked him what he wanted and he demanded rum. I rushed out of the room to obey 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 fellow navigator Billy?” he asked with a grin.

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

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 used to go every day, and I told him that he would probably be back soon.

- And when?

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

“Yes, my comrade Billy will be happy to see me like a drink.

However, his face was gloomy at these words, and I had every reason to think that the captain would not be very pleased 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 tavern and watched the corner of the house like a cat waiting for a mouse. I was about to go out into the yard, but he immediately called out to me. I did not immediately obey him, and his pale face suddenly contorted with such anger, and he burst into 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 went swimming with Billy, you wouldn't have to be called twice. Billy never repeated his orders, nor 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 back to the hall, hide behind the door, son, and surprise Billy, 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 shielded by the open door. I was both uncomfortable and a little scared, as you can imagine, especially when I noticed that the stranger himself was a coward. He released the handle of his dagger, slightly pulled it out of its scabbard, and all the time made such movements as if swallowing some piece stuck in his throat.

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

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

The captain turned on his heel and was right in front of us. The tan seemed to have faded from his face, even his nose turned blue. He had the air of a man who has met a ghost, or the devil, or something worse, if that's the case. 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 spoke.

"He's the best," replied the stranger, somewhat emboldened. “Black Dog came to visit his old ship friend, his Billy, who lives at the Admiral Benbow Inn. Oh Billy, Billy! How much water has flown under the bridge since I lost two of my claws! he exclaimed, raising his mangled hand.

“All right,” said the captain. “You tracked me down, and I'm in front of you. Tell me, why did you come?

“I recognize you, Billy,” said Black Dog. You're right, Billy. This nice little boy, whom I have grown so fond of, will bring me a glass of rum. We will sit with you, if you like, and we will talk bluntly, straight away, like old comrades. Is not it?

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

Black Dog sat sideways, close to the door, with one eye on his old friend and the other on the door, the escape route.

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

“So that you, son, do not peep through the keyhole,” he explained.

I left them alone and went back to the counter.

For a long time, despite all my efforts, I heard nothing but a slurred voice. But little by little the voices grew louder, and at last 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 out on it!

Then suddenly there was a terrible explosion of curses, the table and benches tumbled to the floor with a roar, the steel of the blades clanged, someone screamed in pain, and a minute later I saw the Black Dog running at full speed towards the door. The captain was chasing him. Their daggers were exposed. Black Dog was bleeding from his left shoulder. Near the door, the captain swung his dagger and wanted to strike the fleeing one more, the most terrible, blow and undoubtedly would have cut his head in half, but the dagger caught on a large signboard of our Admiral Benbow. On the sign, below, on the frame itself, you can still see a trace of him.

This ended the battle.

Jumping onto the road, Black Dog, despite his wound, rushed off with such amazing speed that in half a minute he disappeared over the hill. The captain stood and stared at the sign like a madman. 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 for rum, but in my excitement I broke a glass and stained the faucet of the barrel with mud. And while I was putting everything in order and pouring another glass, suddenly I heard something in the hall crash heavily on the floor. I ran in and saw the captain, who was stretched out on the floor in full length. Mother, alarmed by the shouting and fighting, ran downstairs to help me. We raised the captain's head. He breathed very loudly and heavily. His eyes were closed, his face turned purple.

- My God! the mother exclaimed. What a shame for our tavern! And your poor father, as if on purpose, is lying sick!

We did not know how to help the captain, and we were sure that he was wounded to death 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.

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

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

- Injured? the doctor said. - Nonsense! He's just as hurt as you or me. He just hit. What to do! I warned him... Well, Mrs. Hawkins, go back upstairs to your husband and, if possible, don't say anything to him. And I will try to save this thrice unnecessary life ... Jim, bring me a 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. On the forearm, clear inscriptions were chenille: "For luck", "Fair wind" And May the dreams of Billy Bones come true.

Near the very shoulder was a gallows, on which a man dangled. This drawing, it seemed to me, was made with true knowledge of the matter.

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

“No, sir,” I said.

“Very well,” said the doctor. - Then hold the pelvis.

He took the lancet and opened the vein.

A lot leaked from the blood captain before he opened his eyes and looked around us with a bleary gaze. He recognized the doctor and frowned. Then he noticed me and seemed to calm down somewhat. Then he suddenly blushed and, trying to get up, shouted:

Where is the Black Dog?

“There is no dog here, except for the one sitting behind you,” said the doctor. - You drank too much rum. And now you have a stroke, as I predicted to you. And I, against my will, pulled you out of the grave. Well Mr Bones...

"I'm not Bones," the captain interrupted.

"Doesn't matter," the doctor said. “I have a pirate friend called Bonsom, and I gave you that name for brevity. Remember what I'm telling you: one glass of rum will not kill you, of course, but if you drink one glass, you will want to drink more and more. And I swear to you by my wig: if you do not stop drinking, you will die very soon. Understandably? Go where it's right, like 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 collapsed onto the pillow in exhaustion. 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 for you.

Taking my hand, he went to my sick father.

“Nothing,” he said, as soon as we closed the door behind us. “I bled so much blood out of him that he will calm down for a long time. He spends a week in bed, and this is good for him and for you. But he can't survive the second blow.

Chapter 3

BLACK LABEL

About noon I went to the captain with a soft drink and medicine. He lay in the same position as we left him, only a little higher. He seemed to me very weak and at the same time very excited.

“Jim,” he said, “you alone are worth something here. And you know I've always been good to you. Every month I gave you four pence in silver. You see, friend, I feel bad, I am sick and will be abandoned by everyone! And, Jim, you'll bring me a glass of rum, won't you?

“Doctor…” I began.

“All doctors are land rats,” he said. - And this local doctor of yours - well, what does he understand in sailors? I have been in countries where it is hot as in boiling tar, where people fell from the Yellow Jack, and earthquakes shook the land like a wave of the sea. What does your doctor know about these places? And I only lived on rum, yeah! Rum was for me both meat, and water, and a wife, and a friend. And if I don't drink rum now, I'll be like a poor old ship washed ashore by a storm. And my blood will be on you, Jim, and on that rat, on the doctor...

And he lashed out again.

“Look, Jim, how my fingers are trembling,” he continued in a plaintive voice. “I can't stop them from shaking. I didn't have a drop in my mouth today. This doctor is a fool, I assure you. If I don't drink the rum, Jim, I'm going to have nightmares. I've already seen something, by God! I saw old Flint over there in the corner behind me. I saw him clearly, as though alive. And when I see horrors, I become like a beast - I'm used to a rough life. Your doctor himself said that one drink won't kill me. I'll give you a golden guinea for one mug, Jim!

He begged more insistently and was so excited that I was afraid my father would hear him. My father was especially ill that day, and he needed complete rest. Besides, I was supported by the doctor's words that one glass would not hurt the captain.

“I don’t want your money,” I replied, because the offer of a bribe offended me greatly. “Pay better what you owe my father. I'll bring you a glass, but it will be the last one.

I brought a glass of rum. He grabbed it greedily and drank it down.

- That's good! - he said. “I immediately felt better. Listen, friend, did the doctor tell you how long I should lie in this bed?

“At least a week,” I said. - Not less!

- Thunder and lightning! cried the captain. - A week! If I lie down for a week, they will have time to send me a black mark. These people have already sniffed out where I am - swindlers and loafers who could not save their own and are now coveting someone else's. Is that what real sailors do? Here I am, for example: I am a thrifty person, I have never littered with money and do not want to lose what I have acquired. I'll wear them again. I'll sail off this reef and make a fool of them all again.

With these words, he began to slowly rise, grabbing my shoulder with such force that I almost screamed in pain. Hard as decks, his feet fell to the floor. And his ardent speech did not match his barely audible voice at all.

After he sat up in bed, he could not utter a word for a long time, but at last he said:

- This doctor finished me off ... It just sings in my ears. Help me lie down...

But before I extended my hand to him, he fell back into bed and lay silent for a while.

“Jim,” he said at last, “did you see that sailor today?”

- Black Dog? I asked.

“Yes, Black Dog,” he said. “He is a very bad man, but those who sent him are even worse than him. Listen, if I don't get out of here and they send me a black mark, you know they're after my chest. Then get on your horse... - you ride a horse, don't you? - then get on your horse and ride at full speed ... Now it doesn’t matter to me ... Ride at least to this accursed doctor, to the rat, and tell him to whistle all the sailors on deck - all sorts of jurors and judges - and cover my guests on aboard the Admiral Benbow, the whole gang of old Flint, every one of them, how many of them were still alive. I was the first navigator... yes, the first navigator of old Flint, and I alone know where that place is. He himself gave everything to me in Savannah, when he was dying, that's how I'm lying now. See? But you don't do anything until they send me the black mark or until you see the Black Dog or the one-legged sailor again. That one-legged one, Jim, beware the most.

“What is that black mark, Captain?” I asked.

“It’s kind of like a subpoena, mate. When they send, I'll tell you. Just don't miss them, dear Jim, and I'll split everything in half with you, I give you my word of honor ...

“No sailor has ever needed medicine as much as I do.

He soon fell into a heavy slumber, and I left him alone.

I don't know what I would do if everything went well. I probably would have told the doctor everything, for I was mortally afraid that the captain would regret his frankness and kill me. But the circumstances were different. In the evening, my poor father suddenly died, and we forgot about everything else. I was so absorbed in our grief, visiting neighbors, arranging funerals and working in the inn, that I had no time to think about the captain, nor to fear him.

The next morning he went downstairs as if nothing had happened. He ate at the usual hours, but without any appetite, and, I'm afraid, drank more than usual, because he helped himself at the bar. At the same time, he snorted and sniffed so angrily that no one dared to forbid him to drink too much. On the evening before the funeral, he was drunk, as usual. It was disgusting to hear his unbridled, wild song in our sad house. Although he was very weak, we were scared to death of him. The only person who could shut his throat, the doctor, was far away: he was called several miles away to see a sick person, and after the death of his father he never showed up near our house.

I said the captain was weak. And indeed, he not only did not get better, but seemed to be getting weaker. Through force he climbed the stairs; staggering, hobbled from the hall to our counter. Sometimes he stuck his nose out the door - to breathe the sea, but at the same time he grabbed the wall. He breathed heavily and quickly, like a man climbing a steep mountain.

He no longer spoke to me and, apparently, forgot about his recent frankness, but became even more hot-tempered, even more irritable, despite all his weakness. Getting drunk, he pulled out a dagger and put it in front of him on the table, and at the same time he hardly noticed people, immersed in his thoughts and delusional visions.

Once, to our great surprise, he even began to whistle some rustic love song, which he probably sang in his youth before going to sea.

Things were in such a state when, on the day after the funeral - the day was cloudy, foggy and frosty - at three o'clock in the afternoon, I went out the door and stopped on the threshold. I thought longingly about my father...

Suddenly I noticed a man who was walking slowly along the road. Obviously, he was blind, because he felt the way in front of him with a stick. A green shield hung over his eyes and nose. Hunched over by old age or sickness, he was wrapped all over in a tattered, tattered hooded sailor's cloak that made him even uglier. Never in my life have I seen such a terrible person. He stopped not far from the inn and sang loudly in a strange nasal voice, turning into empty space:

“Will some benefactor tell the poor blind man who lost his precious sight in the course of the brave defense of his homeland England, God bless King George, where he is at present?”

“You are near the Admiral Benbow inn, in Black Hill Bay, good man,” I said.

I held out my hand to him, and this terrible eyeless creature with such a sugary voice grabbed it like a pincer.

I was so scared that I wanted to run away. But the blind man pulled me to him.

“Now, boy,” he said, “take me to the captain.”

“Sir,” I said, “I honestly don’t dare—”

- Don't you dare? he chuckled. - Oh, that's how! Don't you dare! Lead me now or I'll break your arm!

And he turned my hand so that I cried out.

“Sir,” I said, “I was not afraid for myself, but for you. The captain is not the same now. He sits with a naked dagger. A gentleman has already come to him and...

- Live, march! he interrupted me.

Never before have I heard such a fierce, cold and vile voice. That voice scared me more than the pain. I realized that I must obey, and led him into the hall where our sick pirate sat, drugged with rum.

The blind man clung to me with iron fingers. He crushed me with all his weight, and I could barely stand on my feet.

“Take me straight to him, and when he sees me call out, ‘Here is your friend, Billy. If you don't scream, this is what I'll do!

And he twisted my arm so that I almost lost consciousness. I was so afraid of the blind beggar that I forgot my horror of the captain and, opening the door of the hall, shouted in a trembling voice the words that the blind man ordered me to shout.

The poor captain looked up and immediately sobered up. His face did not express fear, but rather mortal anguish. He tried to get up, but he apparently did not have enough strength.

“Nothing, Billy, sit where you are,” said the beggar. “I can’t see you, but I can hear your fingers trembling. Business is business. Reach out your right hand... Boy, take his hand and bring it to my right hand.

We both obeyed him. And I saw how he transferred something from his hand, in which he held a stick, into the palm of the captain, who immediately clenched into a fist.

"It's done," said the blind man.

At these words, he released me and, with agility unexpected in a cripple, jumped out of the common room onto the road. I still stood motionless, listening to the receding clatter of his stick.

It took quite a long time before the captain and I came to our senses. I released his wrist, and he pulled his hand towards him and looked at the palm.

- At ten o'clock! he exclaimed. “There are six hours left. We'll show them!

And he jumped to his feet, but immediately staggered and grabbed his throat. So he stood, staggering, for a few moments, then with some strange sound he crashed to the floor with all his weight.

I immediately rushed to him and called my mother. But it was too late. The captain died suddenly of apoplexy. And it's strange: really, I never liked this man, although lately I began to feel sorry for him, but when I saw him dead, I began to cry. I cried for a long time, I shed tears. This was the second death that occurred before my very eyes, and the grief inflicted on me by the first was still too fresh in my heart.

Chapter 4

SAILOR CHEST

Of course, I immediately told my mother everything I knew. Maybe I should have told her about this sooner. We found ourselves in a difficult, dangerous position.

Part of the money left after the captain - if only he had money - should certainly have belonged to us. But it is unlikely that his comrades, like the Black Dog and the blind beggar, would agree to give up their booty to pay the debts of the deceased. I could not obey the captain's order to mount a horse and ride after Dr. Livesey: it was impossible to leave my mother alone, without any protection. There was nothing to think about. But we did not dare to stay at home any longer: we shuddered even when the coals in our hearth fell on the iron grate; we were even afraid of the ticking of the clock. Everywhere we heard someone's steps, as if someone was approaching us.

At the thought of what lies on the floor dead body and that somewhere nearby there was a disgusting blind beggar who might return any moment, my hair stood on end. There was no time to delay. Something had to be done. And we decided to go together to a nearby village for help. No sooner said than done. With uncovered heads we rushed to run through the frosty fog. It was already getting dark.

The village was not visible from us, but it was not far away, a few hundred yards from us, on the opposite bank of the neighboring bay. I was very encouraged by the realization that the blind beggar had appeared from the other side and gone, presumably, to the same place. We walked for a short time, although sometimes we stopped, listening. But familiar sounds could be heard all around: the surf roared and crows croaked in the forest.

The candles were already lit in the village, and I will never forget how their yellowish glow in the doors and windows reassured us. But that was all the help we got. None of the villagers, to their shame, agreed to come with us to the Admiral Benbow.

The more we talked about our worries, the more everyone clung to their corners. The name of Captain Flint, until then unknown to me, was well known to many of them and horrified them. Some recalled that once, while working in the field near the Admiral Benbow, they saw some suspicious people on the road. The strangers seemed to them to be smugglers, and they hurried home to securely close their doors. Someone even saw a small lugger in a bay called Kitt's Lair. Therefore, one mention of the captain's friends made them tremble. There were brave souls who agreed to go for Dr. Livesey, who lived in the other side, but no one wanted to take part in the protection of the tavern.

They say cowardice is contagious. But reasonable arguments, on the contrary, are able to inspire courage in a person. When everyone refused to go with us, the mother declared that she was by no means going to lose the money that belonged to her orphaned son.

“You can be as shy as you like,” she said, “Jim and I are not cowardly ten. We will return the same way we came. Little honor to you, hefty and broad-shouldered men with such chicken souls! We'll open the chest, even if we die because of it... I'll be very grateful, Mrs. Crossley, if you'll let me take your bag to put in the money that belongs to us by law.

Of course, I announced that I would go with my mother, and, of course, everyone yelled that this was crazy. However, no one, not even the men, volunteered to see us off. Their help was limited to giving me a loaded pistol in case of an attack and promising to keep saddled horses ready so that we could get away if the robbers were chasing us. And one young man galloped to the doctor for armed reinforcements.

My heart was beating wildly as we set out on our perilous journey. The evening was cold. ascended full moon. She had already risen above the horizon and blushed in the fog, shining brighter every minute. We realized that it would soon become light as day, and it would not be difficult to notice us on the way back. So we hurried even more. We crept along the fences, silently and quickly, and, having met nothing terrible on the road, we finally reached the Admiral Benbow.

When I entered the house, I immediately closed the door with a bolt. Breathing heavily, we stood in the dark, alone in an empty house where a dead body lay. Then mother brought a candle from the bar, and, holding hands, we entered the common room. The captain was lying in the same position as we left him - on his back, with open eyes, throwing back one arm.

"Down the curtains, Jim," his mother whispered. “They can watch us through the window… And now,” she said, when I lowered the curtains, “we need to find the key to the chest… But I would like to know who dares to touch it…”

And she even slightly sobbed at these words.

I got down on my knees. On the floor near the captain's hand lay a tiny circle of paper smeared on one side with something black. I have no doubt that this is the black mark. I grabbed it and noticed that on the other side it was written in beautiful, clear handwriting: "We give you until ten in the evening."

“He had until ten, Mother,” I said.

And at the same moment our old clock began to strike. This sudden sound made us start violently. But he made us happy, because it was only six o'clock.

“Well, Jim,” said the mother, “look for the key.

I went through the captain's pockets one by one. A few small coins, a thimble, thread and a thick needle, a piece of rolled tobacco, bitten off the edge, a knife with a crooked handle, a pocket compass, a flint and steel - that's all I found there. I'm starting to despair...

- Maybe around the neck? mother said.

Overcoming my disgust, I tore open the collar of his shirt. Indeed, on the tarred rope, which I immediately cut with the captain's own knife, hung a key.

This fortune filled our hearts with hope, and we hurried upstairs to that cramped room where the captain had lived for so long and where his chest had stood since the day of his arrival.

Outside, it was the most ordinary sailor's chest. The letter “B” was visible on the lid, burned with a red-hot iron. The corners were frayed and knocked off, as if this chest had served a long and difficult service.

“Give me the key,” said the mother.

The lock was tight, but she managed to open it, and she threw back the lid in an instant.

We smelled the strong smell of tobacco and tar. First of all, we saw a new, carefully cleaned and pressed suit, very good and, according to mother, had never been put on. Picking up the suit, we found a bunch of the most varied items: a quadrant, a tin mug, several pieces of tobacco, two pairs of elegant pistols, a piece of silver, an old Spanish watch, a few trinkets, not very valuable, but mostly foreign production, two copper-rimmed compasses and five or six fancy shells from the West Indies. Subsequently, I often wondered why the captain, who lived such a restless, dangerous, criminal life, carried these shells with him.

But we did not find anything of value except for a bar of silver and trinkets, which we did not need. At the very bottom lay an old boat coat, whitened by the salty waters of many of the coastal shoals. Mother impatiently threw it away, and we saw the last things that lay in the chest: a package wrapped in oilcloth, like a bundle of papers, and a canvas bag, in which, judging by the ringing, there was gold.

“I will show these robbers that I am an honest woman,” said the mother. “I will take only what he owes me, and not a farthing more. Hold Mrs. Crossley's bag!

And she began to count out the money, transferring it from the bag to the bag that I was holding. It was a difficult task that took a lot of time. Here were collected and mixed coins of the most diverse coinage and countries: doubloons, and louis, and guineas, and piastres, and some other unknown to me. Guineas were few and far between, and my mother could only count guineas.

When she had already counted out half of what the captain owed us, I suddenly grabbed her hand. A sound blew through the still frosty air that made my blood run cold: the tapping of a blind man's stick on a frozen road. The knock was getting closer, and we listened to it with bated breath. Then there was a loud bang on the door of the tavern, after which the door handle moved and the bolt clanged - the beggar tried to enter. There was silence inside and out. And finally, the tapping of the stick was heard again. To our indescribable joy, it was now receding and soon froze.

- Mom, - I said, - take everything, and let's run quickly.

I was convinced that the bolted door seemed suspicious to the blind man, and I was afraid that he would bring his whole swarm of hornets here.

And yet how good it was that I thought to bolt the door! Only those who knew this terrible blind man could understand this.

But the mother, in spite of all her fear, did not agree to take a single coin more than she was due, and at the same time stubbornly did not want to take less. She said that it wasn't seven o'clock yet, that we had plenty of time. She knows her rights and will not cede them to anyone. She argued stubbornly with me until we suddenly heard a low, drawn-out whistle that resounded somewhere in the distance, on a hill.

We immediately stopped bickering.

“And I’ll take this too for good measure,” I said, taking a bundle of papers wrapped in oilcloth.

A minute later we were groping our way down. The candle was left by the empty chest. I opened the door and we stepped out onto the road. There was not a minute to lose. The fog dissipated quickly. The moon shone brightly on the hills. Only in the depths of the hollow and at the door of the tavern did a shaky curtain of foggy darkness swirl, as if to hide our first steps. But already halfway up, a little higher, at the foot of the hill, we were bound to fall into a lane of moonlight.

And that was not all - in the distance we heard someone's quick steps.

We turned around and saw a light jumping and approaching: someone was carrying a lantern.

“Darling,” said the mother suddenly, “take the money and run. I feel like I'm about to faint...

"We are both dead," I thought. How I cursed the cowardice of our neighbors! How angry I was with my poor mother both for her honesty and for her greed, for her past boldness and for her present weakness!

Fortunately, we passed near some kind of bridge. I helped her - she staggered - to go down to the shore. She sighed and leaned on my shoulder. I don’t know where my strength came from, but I dragged her along the shore and dragged her under the bridge. I'm only afraid that it was done rather rudely. The bridge was low, and it was possible to move under it only on all fours. I crawled further, under the arch, and my mother remained almost all in sight. It was a few steps from the inn.

Chapter 5

THE END OF THE BLIND

It turned out that my curiosity was stronger than fear. I couldn't sit still. I carefully climbed out into the hollow and hid behind a broom bush. From here I could clearly see the road in front of the door of the inn.

As soon as I took up my observation post, enemies appeared. There were seven or eight of them. They approached quickly, their boots clattering loudly and indiscriminately. The man with the lantern ran ahead of everyone. Three men followed him, holding hands. Despite the fog, I could see that the middle man in this trio was a blind beggar. Then I heard his voice and was convinced that I was right.

- To hell with the door! he shouted.

- Yes, sir! two or three responded.

And they attacked the door of the Admiral Benbow; a man with a lantern walked behind. At the very door they stopped and began to consult in whispers. Obviously, they were surprised that the door was not locked. Then the orders of the blind man were heard again. His impatient, ferocious voice grew louder and shriller.

- To the house! To the house! he shouted, cursing his comrades for their slowness.

Four or five entered the house, two remained on the road with a terrible beggar. Then, after a few minutes of silence, there was a cry of surprise and a voice yelled from within:

Billy is dead!

But the blind man scolded them again for digging like that.

“Search him, you vile bums!” The rest are upstairs, behind the chest! he ordered.

They clattered their boots on the dilapidated steps, and the whole house trembled with their trampling. Then the surprised voices were heard again. The window in the captain's room flew open, and shards of broken glass rained down with a clang. A man leaned out of the window. His head and shoulders were clearly visible in the moonlight. He called out to a blind beggar standing on the road below:

– Hey, Pew, they have already been here before us!.. Someone rummaged through the whole chest from top to bottom!

- And then on the spot? Pugh bellowed.

- The money is here.

- To hell with the money! the blind man shouted. “I'm talking about the Flint papers.

“No papers to be seen,” said the man.

- Hey you, down there, look if they are on the body! the blind man shouted again.

Another brigand - probably one of those who remained downstairs to search the corpse of the captain - appeared at the door of the inn.

“They ransacked him before us,” he said. They didn't leave us anything.

“We were robbed by the people here. This puppy! Pugh shouted. “It’s a pity I didn’t gouge out his eyes… These people were here quite recently. When I wanted to enter, the door was bolted. Look for them guys! Search in all corners...

Yes, they were here. They left a burning candle, said the man at the window.

- Search! Search! Search the whole house! Pugh repeated, tapping his stick.

And so a terrible mess began in our old tavern. Heavy footsteps thundered everywhere. Pieces of smashed furniture rained down, doors slammed above and below, so that even the surrounding rocks picked up this furious roar. But all in vain: people one after another went out onto the road and reported that they had not found us anywhere.

At that moment, the same whistling sounded again in the distance, which had so frightened my mother and me when we were counting the coins of the deceased. This time it sounded twice. I used to think that with this whistle the blind man called his comrades to attack. But now I noticed that the whistle was coming from the direction of the hill facing the village, and I guessed that this was a signal warning the bandits of danger.

“This is Dirk,” one said. - Hear: he whistles twice. Gotta run guys.

– Run?! Pugh shouted. - Oh, you fools! Dirk has always been a fool and a coward. Don't listen to Dirk. They are around here somewhere. They couldn't run far. You must find them. Look, dogs! Search! Search in all nooks and crannies! Oh devil! he exclaimed. - Have my eyes!

This cry somewhat cheered up the robbers. Two of them began to scour through the trees in the grove, but reluctantly, barely moving. They, it seemed to me, thought more about flight than about searching. The rest stood in the middle of the road, confused.

“We have thousands in our hands, and you mumble like idiots!” If you find this paper, you will become richer than the king! This paper is here, two steps away, and you shirk and strive to escape! There was not a single brave soul among you who would dare to go to Billy and give him a black mark. I did it, blind man! And now I'm losing my happiness because of you! I have to grovel in poverty and beg for pennies for a glass when I could drive around in carriages!

“But we have doubloons,” grumbled one.

“And they must have hidden the paper,” added another. “Take the money, Pew, and stop freaking out.

Pugh really was kind of crazy. The last objections of the robbers finally infuriated him. In a fit of violent rage, he raised his stick and, throwing himself blindly at his comrades, began to reward them with blows.

Those, in turn, answered the villain with curses, accompanying them with terrible threats. They tried to grab the stick and snatch it from his hands.

This quarrel was salvation for us.

While they were fighting and arguing, from the hills, from the direction of the village, came the clatter of galloping horses. Almost at the same moment, somewhere behind the fence, a light flashed and a pistol shot rang out. This was the last signal. It meant that danger was near. The robbers rushed in different directions - some towards the sea, along the shore of the bay, others up the slope of the hill. In half a minute, only Pugh was left on the road. They left him alone - maybe they forgot about him in panic fear, or maybe on purpose in retaliation for abuse and beatings. Left alone, he furiously banged on the road with a stick and, stretching out his hands, called for his comrades, but he completely lost his way and, instead of rushing to the sea, ran towards the village.

He rushed a few steps away from me, saying in a weeping voice:

“Johnny, Black Dog, Dirk…” He mentioned other names as well. - After all, you will not leave old Pew, dear comrades, you will not leave old Pew!

The clatter of horses meanwhile was approaching. It was already possible to distinguish five or six horsemen, illuminated by the moon. They raced at full speed down the hillside.

Then the blind man realized that he was going in the wrong direction. With a cry, he turned and ran straight to the roadside ditch, into which he was not slow to slide. But at once he got up and, maddened, climbed out again onto the road, just under the feet of the horse, galloping ahead of everyone.

The rider wanted to save him, but it was too late. The desperate cry of the blind man seemed to break the darkness of the night. Four hooves of a horse crushed and crushed him. He fell on his side, slowly rolled over onto his back, and didn't move again.

I jumped to my feet and called out to the riders. They stopped, frightened by the misfortune that had happened. I recognized them immediately. Riding behind everyone was the same teenager who volunteered to go from the village for Dr. Livesey. The rest were customs guards he met along the way. He was smart enough to call them for help. Rumors of a lugger in Kitt's Lair had reached the customs officer, Mr. Dance, before. The road to Kitt's Lair went past our tavern, Danse immediately galloped there, accompanied by his detachment. Thanks to this happy accident, my mother and I were saved from certain death.

Pugh was killed outright. We took my mother to the village. There they gave her a sniff of aromatic salt, sprinkled her with cold water, and she woke up. Despite all the fears she had endured, she did not stop complaining that she had not managed to take from the captain's money the entire amount that was rightfully due to her.

In the meantime, Customs Officer Dans rode with his troop to Kitt's Lair. But the guards dismounted and carefully descended the slope, leading the horses by the bridle, and even supporting them, and constantly fearing an ambush. And, naturally, by the time they finally reached the bay, the ship had already managed to raise anchor, although it was still not far from the coast. Danes called out to him. A voice answered, advising him to avoid moonlit places if he did not want to get a good dose of lead. And immediately a bullet whistled past his shoulder.

Soon the ship rounded the cape and disappeared.

Mr. Dance, in his own words, felt, standing on the shore, like "a fish thrown out of the water." He immediately sent a man to B... to send a cutter out to sea.

“But it’s all for nothing,” he said. “They ran away, and you can’t catch up with them. I am glad, too,” he added, “that I have stepped on Mr. Pugh's toes.

I already managed to tell him about the blind man.

I returned with him to the Admiral Benbow. It is difficult to convey what a rout there was. The bandits, looking for me and my mother, even tore the clock off the wall. And although they took nothing with them, except for the money bag that belonged to the captain, and a few silver coins from our cash register, it immediately became clear to me that we were ruined.

Mr. Dance could not understand anything for a long time.

Are you saying they took the money? Tell me, Hawkins, what else did they want? Were they looking for any more money?

“No, sir, not money,” I replied. “What they were looking for is here in my side pocket. To tell the truth, I would like to put this thing in a safer place.

"That's right, boy, that's right," he said. - Give it to me if you want.

“I was thinking of giving it to Dr. Livesey…” I began.

- Right! he interrupted me with warmth. - Right. Dr. Livesey is a gentleman and a judge. Perhaps I myself should go to him or to the squire and report what happened. After all, after all, Pugh died. I don't regret it at all, but there may be people who will put the blame on me, the royal customs officer. You know what, Hawkins? Let's go with me. I'll take you with me if you want.

I thanked him and we went to the village where the horses were standing. By the time I said goodbye to my mother, everyone had already sat in the saddle.

“Dogger,” said Mr. Dance, “you have a good horse. Put this young man behind you.

As soon as I sat down behind Dogger and took hold of his belt, the warden ordered us to move on, and the detachment galloped at a big trot along the road to Dr. Livesey's house.

Chapter 6

PAPER CAPTAIN

We rushed at full speed and finally stopped at the house of Dr. Livesey. The entire façade was plunged into darkness.

Mr. Dance told me to jump off my horse and knock. Dogger set up a stirrup to make it easier for me to get off. A maid came out to knock.

“Is Dr. Livesey at home?” I asked.

“No,” she answered. “He returned home in the afternoon, and has now gone to the manor to dine and spend the evening with the squire.

"Then we're going there," said Mr. Dance.

The estate was close. I did not even sit in the saddle, but ran alongside the horse, holding on to Dogger's stirrup.

The park gates flashed by. A long, leafless, moonlit avenue led to a landowner's house, white in the distance, surrounded by a spacious old garden. Mr. Dance jumped off his horse and led me into the house. We were immediately let in.

The servant led us down a long, carpeted corridor to the master's office. The walls of the study were lined with bookcases. There was a bust on every cabinet. The Squire and Dr. Livesey were sitting near the bright fire, smoking.

I have never seen a squire so close. He was a tall man, over six feet tall, burly, with a thick, stern face, hardened and weathered by long travels. He had black movable eyebrows, betraying not an evil, but an arrogant and quick-tempered disposition.

“Come in, Mr. Dance,” he said haughtily and condescendingly. - Good evening!

“Good evening, Dans,” said the doctor, nodding his head. Good evening, friend Jim. What tailwind brought you here?

The customs officer straightened up, his hands at his sides, and recounted all our adventures as if they had learned a lesson. You should have seen how meaningfully these two gentlemen looked at each other during his story! They listened with such curiosity that they even stopped smoking. And when they heard my mother go back to our house at night, Dr. Livesey slapped his thigh, and the squire shouted "bravo" and smashed his long pipe on the grate. Mr. Trelawney (that was the squire's name, if you remember) had long ago left his chair and was pacing up and down the room, while the doctor, as if to hear better, had pulled off his powdered wig. It was strange to see him without a wig, with short black hair.

At last Mr. Dance finished his story.

“Mr. Dance,” said the squire, “you are a noble man!” And by killing one of the most bloodthirsty villains, you have committed a valiant deed. Such people should be crushed like cockroaches!.. Hawkins, I see, is also not a blunder. Ring that bell, Hawkins. Mr. Danse has to drink beer.

“So, Jim,” the doctor said, “what they were looking for is here with you?”

“Here it is,” I said, and handed him a package wrapped in oilcloth.

The doctor examined the package from all sides. Apparently, he was eager to open it. But he overcame himself and calmly put the package in his pocket.

“Squire,” he said, “when Danse has drunk his beer, he will have to return to his duties. And Jim Hawkins will be staying with me. If you'll excuse me, I'll ask you now to serve him a cold pâté for dinner.

- Still, do me a favor, Livesey! said the squire. “Hawkins deserved something more today.

In front of me, on one of the small tables, a large portion of pigeon pate was placed. I was as hungry as a wolf and ate my supper with great pleasure. In the meantime, Dans, having heard a lot of new praise, retired.

“Well, squire,” said the doctor.

“Well, doctor,” said the squire.

- In one word! Dr. Livesey laughed. “I hope you have heard of this Flint?”

“Have I heard of Flint?! exclaimed the squire. "Are you asking if I've heard of Flint?" He was the most bloodthirsty pirate that ever sailed the sea. Blackbeard in front of Flint baby. The Spaniards were so afraid of him that I confess to you, sir, I was sometimes proud that he was an Englishman. One day near Trinidad I saw the tops of her sails in the distance, but our captain got cold feet and immediately turned back, sir, to Port of Spain.

“I heard about him here in England,” said the doctor. But the question is: did he have any money?

- Money! cried the squire. “Didn’t you hear what Dans said? What could these villains be looking for if not money? What do they want besides money? For what, besides money, would they risk their skin?

“We will soon find out why they risked their skins,” the doctor replied. “You are so excited that you won’t let me say a word. Here's what I'd like to find out: Suppose here, in my pocket, is a key that can be used to find out where Flint hid his treasures. Are these treasures great?

“Great, sir!” cried the squire. - So listen! If we really have the key you speak of in our hands, I will immediately equip a suitable vessel at the Bristol docks, take you and Hawkins with me and go to get this treasure, even if we have to look for it for a whole year!

“Very well,” said the doctor. - In that case, if Jim agrees, let's open the package.

And he put the package in front of him on the table.

The package was tightly sewn up with threads. The doctor took out his toolbox and cut the threads with surgical scissors. There were two things in the package: a notebook and a sealed envelope.

“First of all, let’s look at the notebook,” suggested the doctor.

He affectionately called me to him, and I got up from the table at which I had supper to take part in the disclosure of the secret. The doctor began flipping through the notebook. The Squire and I looked curiously over his shoulder.

All sorts of scribbles were scrawled on the first page of the notebook. It looked like they were taken out because they had nothing to do or to try out the pen. By the way, there was also the inscription that the captain had tattooed on his arm: “May Billy Bones dreams come true,” and others of the same kind, for example: “Mr. Palm Key, he got everything that was due to him. There were other inscriptions, completely incomprehensible, consisting mostly of one word. I was very interested in who was the one who received, "what was due to him", and what exactly was due to him. Perhaps a stab in the back?

“Well, you can't get much out of this page,” Dr. Livesey said.

The next ten or twelve pages were full of strange accounting entries. At one end of the line was a date, and at the other end was a cash total, as usual in ledgers. But instead of any explanation, there were only a different number of crosses in between. On the twelfth of June 1745, for example, the amount of seventy pounds sterling was marked, but all the explanations of where it came from were replaced by six crosses. Occasionally, however, the name of the area was added, for example: “Against Caracas”, or latitude and longitude were simply marked, for example: “62 ° 17’ 20”, 19 ° 2’ 40 ””.

The records were kept for almost twenty years. The sums of credits were getting bigger and bigger. And at the very end, after five or six erroneous, crossed-out counts, the total was summed up, and at the bottom it was signed: "Bones' share."

“I can't understand anything,” said Dr. Livesey.

Everything is clear as day! exclaimed the squire. - Before us is the receipt book of this vile dog. The names of sunken ships and plundered cities are replaced with crosses. The numbers indicate the share of this murderer in the total production. Where he was afraid of inaccuracy, he inserted some explanations. "Against Caracas", for example. This means that some unfortunate ship was robbed against Caracas. The poor sailors who sailed on it have long been rotting among the corals.

- Right! the doctor said. This is what it means to be a traveller! Right! And his share grew as he rose in rank.

There was nothing else in this notebook, except for the names of some localities written on blank sheets, and a table for converting English, Spanish and French money into current coin.

- Careful man! the doctor exclaimed. - You can't count him.

"Now," said the squire, "let's see what's here."

The envelope was sealed in several places. The seal was a thimble I found in the captain's pocket. The doctor carefully broke the seals, and a map of some island fell on the table, with latitude and longitude, with the designation of the depths of the sea near the coast, with the names of hills, bays and capes. In general, there was everything that could be needed to approach the unknown island without any risk and drop anchor.

The island was nine miles long and five wide. He looked like a fat dragon rearing up. We noticed two harbors, well sheltered from storms, and a hill in the middle, called "Spyglass".

The map had many additions made later. The most striking were three crosses made in red ink, two in the northern part of the island and one in the southwestern part. Near this last cross, in the same red ink, in a small, clear hand, not at all like the captain's scrawl, was written:

On the back of the card were explanations written in the same handwriting. Here they are:

“A tall tree on the shoulder of the Spyglass, direction N from N.N.E.

Skeleton Island E.-S.-E. and on E. Ten feet.

Silver bars in the northern pit. You will find it on the slope of the eastern hill, ten fathoms south of the black rock, if you stand facing it.

Weapons are easy to find in the sandy hill on the north end of the Northern Cape, keep to the east and a quarter of a rhumb to the north.

And that's all. These records seemed completely incomprehensible to me. But, despite their brevity, they delighted the squire and Dr. Livesey.

“Livesey,” said the squire, “you must immediately give up your miserable practice. Tomorrow I'm going to Bristol. In three weeks... no, in two weeks... no, in ten days we'll have the finest ship, sir, and the finest crew in all of England. Hawkins will go as a cabin boy... You will make a fine cabin boy, Hawkins... You, Livesey, are the ship's doctor. I am an admiral. We'll take Redruth, Joyce and Hunter with us. A fair wind will quickly drive us to the island. Finding treasures there is not difficult. We'll have enough coins to eat, we'll be able to bathe in them, ricochet them into the water...

“Trelawney,” the doctor said, “I'm coming with you. I guarantee that Jim and I will justify your trust. But there is one I'm afraid to rely on.

- Who is he? exclaimed the squire. “Name that dog, sir!”

“You,” the doctor replied, “because you don’t know how to keep your mouth shut.” We are not the only ones who know about these papers. The robbers who destroyed the tavern this evening are, as you see, a desperately brave people, and those robbers who remained on the ship - and besides them, I dare say, there are somewhere else nearby - will, of course, do everything possible to take possession of the treasure. We must not appear alone anywhere until we have set sail from the shore. I'll stay here with Jim until we leave. You take Joyce and Hunter and go with them to Bristol. And, most importantly, we must not say a word to anyone about our find.

“Livesey,” said the squire, “you are always right. I will be dumb as a grave.

PART TWO

ship's cook

Chapter 7

I'M GOING TO BRISTOL

The preparations for the voyage had taken much longer than the squire had imagined. And in general, all our original plans had to be changed. First of all, Dr. Livesey's desire not to be separated from me was not realized: he had to go to London to look for a doctor who would replace him in our places during his absence. The squire had a lot of work to do in Bristol. And I lived in the estate under the supervision of the old huntsman Redruth, almost like a prisoner, dreaming of unknown islands and sea adventures. I spent many hours over the map and learned it by heart. Sitting by the fire in the steward's room, in my dreams I swam up to the island from various sides. I explored every inch of it, climbed a thousand times up the high hill called the Spyglass, and admired from there an amazing, ever-changing view. Sometimes the island was full of savages and we had to fight them off. Sometimes it was inhabited by predatory animals, and we had to run away from them. But all these imaginary adventures turned out to be nothing compared to the strange and tragic adventures that actually happened.

Week followed week. Finally, one day, we received a letter. It was addressed to Dr. Livesey, but there was a postscript on the envelope:

"If Dr. Livesey hasn't returned yet, open the letter to Tom Redruth or young Hawkins."

Tearing open the envelope, we read - or rather, I read, because the huntsman could only make out printed letters - the following important messages:

Dear Livesey!

I don’t know where you are, in the manor or still in London, I am writing both here and there at the same time.

The ship was bought and equipped. He is at anchor, ready to go to sea. It is impossible to imagine anything better than our schooner. A baby can control it. Displacement - two hundred tons. The name is Hispaniola.

My old friend Blendley, who turned out to be an amazingly clever businessman, helped me get it. This nice man worked for me like a black man. However, everyone in Bristol tried to help me, it was only necessary to hint that we were going after our treasure ... "

“Redruth,” I said, interrupting my reading, “Doctor Livesey will not like this at all. So the squire was talking after all...

“And who is more important: the squire or the doctor?” the huntsman grumbled. “Does the squire have to be silent to please some Dr. Livesey?”

“Blandley himself found the Hispaniola, and thanks to his dexterity, we got it literally for a pittance. True, there are people in Bristol who cannot stand Blendley. They have the audacity to say that this most honest man only cares about profit, that the Hispaniola belongs to him and that he sold it to me at an exorbitant price. This is undoubtedly slander. No one, however, dares to deny that the Hispaniola is a fine ship.

So, I got the ship without difficulty. True, the workers equip it very slowly, but in time everything will be ready. Much more I had to tinker with the selection of the team.

I wanted to hire about twenty people - in case of meeting with savages, pirates or a damned Frenchman. I was already exhausted, and found only six, but then fate had mercy on me, and I met a man who immediately arranged this whole thing for me.

I happened to talk to him at the port. It turned out that he was an old sailor. Lives on land and runs a tavern. Familiar with all sailors in Bristol. Life on land has upset his health, he wants to go to sea again and is looking for a position as a ship's cook. That morning, he said, he went out to port only to breathe in the salty sea air.

End of free trial.

Treasure Island

Robert Louis Stevenson

The real boys

The famous novel by Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894) tells of the exciting and dangerous adventures of young Jim and his older comrades, who went in search of a pirate treasure.

Jim had to face such serious tests that even an adult could not stand. But the courage, nobility, honesty and kindness of this wonderful boy helped him cope with all the difficulties!

The most loved and thrilling adventure novel of all time with stunning new illustrations!

For middle school age.

Robert Stevenson

Treasure Island

© Pereskaz, Mikhailov M., 2015

© Il., Lee K., 2015

© Il., Saltykov M. M., 2015

© LLC AST Publishing House, 2015

Part one

old pirate

New guest of the Admiral Benbow tavern

This story began on the day when an old tanned sailor with a scar on his cheek appeared near the Admiral Benbow Inn, which was run by my father. I remember how he glanced over our bay and suddenly in a hoarse voice uttered the beginning of an old sailor's song:

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

Then he knocked with his stick, like a handgun, on our door, and when my father opened it, he rudely demanded rum.

Well, that's a good place to park! he said, sipping from his glass. "I'll probably drop anchor here for a little while." I am a simple person. Rum, scrambled eggs, pork belly, plus a view of the sea - that's all I need. Until then, hold on!

With these words, he threw several gold coins to the threshold.

“When you need it, you can tell me, I’ll give you more,” he added and ordered his chest to be brought in.

As we learned later, his name was Billy Bones, but he himself ordered to call himself captain. And in fact, despite the shabby clothes and rough manners, the new guest did not look like a simple sailor.

He was uncommunicative. During the day he wandered along the coast with a telescope, from time to time looking at the sea distance, and in the evenings he sat in a tavern by the fire and drank rum. He did not enter into conversations with anyone, and in answer to questions he only furiously moved his eyebrows and whistled his nose like a ship's siren. So soon everyone left him alone, which he seemed to need. And if any sailor came to us, bound for Bristol, he watched him for a long time and warily from behind the curtain before going out.

I understood what was the matter. One day the captain secretly promised to pay me fourpence a month to see if a one-legged sailor appeared anywhere, and if I saw him, I immediately informed him.

Oh, and I suffered for these four pence! This one-legged man dreamed of me every night. He followed me, jumping over boulders and fences. Sometimes he seemed to me like some kind of monster - his only leg grew from his chest, then from his back. And I woke up in a cold sweat.

And yet I was much more afraid of the captain himself. On other evenings, he would get so high on rum that he would start singing terrible sea songs. And sometimes he called visitors to his table, treated everyone to wine and demanded that they sing along with him in chorus. And everyone obediently picked up, trying to outshout each other, because the captain was terrible in anger. And he was angry for any reason and then did not let anyone out of the tavern until the drunk rum knocked him down.

And sometimes he made me listen to his stories, and that was the worst of all. Chilling stories about shipwrecks, atrocities of pirates, gallows and other cruel executions thrilled not only me, but also adult listeners. Apparently, his life was spent surrounded only by villains and scoundrels.

My father was initially afraid that the captain would scare away all the visitors. But oddly enough, the locals were drawn to him. He brought something new into their lives, he was part of that world where extraordinary, bright events take place, where storms rage and passions boil. “This is a real sea wolf!” youth admired. Yes, it was these people who brought England the glory of "thunderstorms of the seas."

However, the losses from it were also considerable. A month passed, another; the money we received from him on the first day ran out long ago, and he did not pay new ones. The father once tried to remind the captain about the payment, but he growled in response so that the poor fellow ran out the door in horror. I think that the fear of the guest hastened his premature death.

And so it went on - the captain still tried not to communicate with anyone, except for those evenings when he was very drunk. He received no letters and did not write anywhere himself. His clothes were worn out, and he did not seem to have another. And no one has ever seen him look into his chest.

Billy Bones

Everyone, as before, trembled before him, and only one person dared to object to him. It happened like this.

One evening, Dr. Livesey came to see my ailing father. After examining the patient and having a hasty lunch with what my mother had prepared, he went down to the common room. It immediately became noticeable how different the doctor was from the village squalor. In an impeccable suit, a snow-white wig, graceful, polite, he sat down and, slowly smoking his pipe, started a conversation with the gardener.

Billy Bones had just loaded himself with rum that evening and was sitting alone on the table. Suddenly he roared at the top of his lungs:

Fifteen men for a dead man's chest

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

Drink and the devil will take you to the end

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

Everyone is already used to this song, but the doctor obviously did not like it. He interrupted the conversation and looked displeasedly at the singer. And he slammed his fist on the table with all his might, demanding silence.

Everyone immediately fell silent, and only the doctor continued his leisurely conversation about medicines for rheumatism. The captain glared at him and slammed his fist in front of him again.

- Hey, there, on the deck, be silent! he yelled, swearing dirty in addition.

- Is that you for me, sir? Livesey asked.

- It's for you! - And the drunken ignoramus confirmed his words with even more vile abuse.

“In that case, let me tell you,” said the doctor, “that if you do not stop drinking, there will soon be one less vile scoundrel in this world.

You should have seen how pissed off the captain was! Cursing, he sprang to his feet, drew a sailor's knife, and announced that he would nail the doctor to the wall with it.

The doctor didn't raise an eyebrow. He did not even turn to the drunk, and looking at him over his shoulder, calmly said:

“If you don’t remove the knife immediately, I swear on my honor, in a couple of days you will be hanging in a noose by the decision of the local circuit court.”

Their eyes met, and the intrepid captain suddenly lowered his eyes. He slipped the knife into his pocket and sat down heavily on the bench, grumbling like a battered old dog.

“And from now on, sir,” continued Livesey, “you will be closely monitored. I am not only a doctor here, but also a judge. Keep in mind - if you even once dare to be rude to someone, like now, you will be thrown out of here in no time. Thank you for attention.

And even after the doctor left, Billy Bones was

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meek and quiet as a mouse.

Dr. Livesey

Visit of the Black Dog

When winter came and the bitter cold began, it became clear that my father was unlikely to live until spring. The entire household was left to my mother and me, and we were no longer up to the captain.

One early frosty morning, when the sun had not yet risen and illuminated only the tops of the hills and the sea in the distance, the captain, having risen earlier than usual, went to the sea. I saw him, holding a telescope under his arm and muttering something under his breath, disappeared behind a high cliff.

My mother remained in my father's room, and I began to lay the table for breakfast. Suddenly the door opened and a stranger appeared on the threshold.

Accustomed to looking at the sailors - whether one-legged or not - I was somewhat puzzled. The guest had a sallow, not tanned face, and apart from a dagger there was nothing marine in it. But for some reason it immediately seemed to me that he was a sailor.

At first he asked for rum, but then changed his mind and, sitting down at the table, called me to him.

- Not otherwise, you set the table for my friend Billy?

I replied that the table was set for our guest, who asked to be called captain.

“So it is,” smiled the guest. “Billy always dreamed of being called that. He also has a scar on his right cheek, doesn't he? And he has the most pleasant manners, especially when he drinks ... In a word: how can I see my good old friend Billy?

- He went for a walk.

- How far?

I pointed to the cliff outside the window.

- And how long?

- Not too much.

He asked me about something else and finally nodded in satisfaction.

“Well, I think Billy will be as happy with me as he is with a free drink.

But looking at the ominous expression on his face, I doubted it. However, this did not concern me, and I went to the door. However, the stranger did not let me leave.

“I think it's better for you to stay. And do not try to argue with me, my boy. If you could swim with people like Billy! It was not customary for them to repeat twice ... Ah, here, it seems, is my long-awaited friend! Come on, son, let's play old Billy, God bless him ...

I felt uncomfortable when he made me hide behind the open door with him. In addition, the guest himself was pretty cowardly - I saw how he grabbed the dagger and slightly pulled it out of its scabbard.

And then the captain burst into the tavern. Closing the door, he moved to the set table.

- Billy! the stranger called out softly.

The captain turned on his heel, and the tan seemed to have come off his face. Perhaps that's how they turn pale when they meet a ghost.

“What, you don’t recognize your shipmate?”

The captain opened and closed his mouth like a fish in the sand.

- Black Dog! he said with difficulty.

"He's the best," smiled the stranger. "Why shouldn't Black Dog visit an old friend?" After all, how much water and rum have flown under the bridge since I lost a pair of claws! And he raised his hand, which was missing two fingers.

“All right,” said the captain. - Since you tracked me down, tell me why you came.

“I recognize old Billy!” Well, let's talk, and the boy will serve us rum for now.

When I brought the bottle, Black Dog sent me to the kitchen and told me to leave the door open.

“This is so that you, my friend, will not be tempted to peep through the keyhole,” he explained.

From the kitchen, at first, only unintelligible conversation was heard from me. But the captain gradually raised his voice. Finally he shouted:

- No, no, no way! And enough about that!

- If you are upturned, then together with everyone!

In response, there was a rude abuse, then there was a roar of overturned furniture, a clang of steel and someone's scream. Looking out the door, I saw the captain chasing his guest running towards the door. Both were holding daggers, and Black Dog had blood on his shoulder. Right at the door, the captain swung his dagger into the fleeing man's back, but the blade caught on the sign "Admiral Benbow" - the mark on it is still visible.

Black Dog

Black Dog jumped out onto the road, and only we saw him. And the captain froze in the doorway, staring blankly at the sign. Then he passed his hand over his face and grabbed the door frame.

- Jim, Roma! he croaked.

- You are not injured? I exclaimed.

- I said Roma! repeated the captain. - You need to hustle...

But as I was returning with the rum, I heard something thump heavily on the floor, and saw the captain stretched out to his full height in the middle of the room. His face was purplish, and he was breathing rapidly and heavily.

My mother and I tried to help him. I wanted to pour rum into his mouth, but his jaws were clenched, and he didn't open his eyes either.

Luckily for us, Dr. Livesey just arrived to see my father.

- Doctor, help! we pleaded. He appears to be injured...

"It's not a wound," the doctor replied. It's called a "hit". It couldn't be otherwise... Bring the basin, Hawkins. Nothing to do, let's try to save this thrice worthless life. I hope you're not afraid of blood?

When the doctor rolled up the captain's sleeve, tattoos became visible on the muscular tanned arm: "For luck", "Seven feet under the keel", "Good luck to Billy Bones", as well as a drawing of a man on the gallows.

“A very suitable plot,” Livesey grinned and opened the captain’s vein with a lancet.

Much dark blood flowed from his hand before the captain woke up.

- Where is the Black Dog? – the first thing he asked, trying to get up.

“There are no dogs here, except for one, named Rom, who gnaws at you from the inside,” the doctor replied. “I told you, if you drink so much, you will end up badly.” So you had an apoplexy. And, believe me, it did not give me the slightest joy to pull you out of the other world. And I warn you, Mr. Bones...

"I'm not Bones," the captain muttered.

- Never mind. But if you get drunk again, I swear by my wig, you will soon go to the underworld, where, apparently, they will not wait for you.

We barely dragged the captain upstairs and put him to bed.

“Now for you the word “rum” means “death,” the doctor said finally. “One glass won't kill you, of course, but you won't be able to stop. You won't survive the second blow.

Black label

At noon, I brought the captain medicine.

“But the doctor—” I began.

He interrupted me with rude abuse.

“Your doctor is just a fool. What does he understand? And what does he know about my life? In those parts where I have been, where from earthquakes the land under my feet swayed like a deck, where people died like flies from yellow fever - only rum saved me. He was my food, and water, and wife, and friend. And now, without a sip of rum, I'll be like a broken ship washed ashore. Besides, ghosts will start to appear to me - yes, yes, I already saw old Flint over there in the corner. From such nightmares I go wild ... And then, the doctor himself said that one glass would not hurt me. I will give you a golden guinea for him... Otherwise I will die, and you will be guilty!

In fact, I remembered the words of the doctor, and this calmed me somewhat.

“I don’t need your money,” I answered proudly. -

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So be it, I'll bring you a glass, but only one.

I brought the rum and the captain drank it in one go.

- Well that's just wonderful! - he said. - Immediately feel better. And how long will I have to lie down?

- The doctor said - a week, at least ...

- Thunder and lightning! exclaimed Billy Bones. - What week is it? I'm telling you, I need to get out of here, otherwise they will send me a black mark ...

He tried to stand up, but his legs couldn't hold him.

"Damn doctor," he muttered. - He drained all the blood from me ... Listen, Jim, did you see the Black Dog today? Well, these are terrible people. They tracked me down, but know that they don't need me, they get to my chest. What lies in it was given to me by Flint himself before his death, and now I alone know where that place is ... If they send me a black mark, jump at full speed ... well, at least to this neat doctor - let him collect all sorts of there are judges and witnesses to cover this whole gang right here in the tavern! .. But this is only after the black mark, or if you see a one-legged sailor. Who do you fear the most...

What is a "black mark"? I asked.

Well, it's kind of like an agenda. So don't miss it, my boy, and I swear to you... you and I will split everything in half...

He obviously began to talk, and soon fell into oblivion.

I thought - what if he regrets his frankness and kills me? I wanted to go straight to the doctor. But that day my father got worse, and in the evening he died. From grief and the troubles that had fallen on us, my mother and I forgot to think about the guest and our fear of him.

And in the morning the captain went downstairs as if nothing had happened. By evening, he was drunk as usual, and, despite the impending funeral, he sang his rollicking song at the top of his voice, laying his dagger in front of him. He was still very weak, but the old fear again seized me. In addition, the doctor was far away - he was called to the patient in a distant village.

The day after the funeral, I went outside. The morning was cold and foggy, to match my dreary thoughts about my father.

Suddenly I saw a hunched old man in a tattered sailor's cloak with a hood walking along the road, feeling it with a stick. He had a green visor above his eyes. Apparently he was blind. Having reached the tavern, the old man stopped and, turning to no one knows whom, bleated in a nasal voice in a singsong voice:

“Will some good man inform the unfortunate blind man who lost his sight in the battles for his native England - may God prolong the days of King George - in what blessed place he is in this moment?

“You are in Black Hill Bay, near the Admiral Benbow Inn,” I replied.

I shuddered as that vile, eyeless ghost clung to my outstretched hand like a tong.

“Now, my dear, take me to the captain.”

“Sir,” I murmured, “on my word, I’m afraid…”

- Ah, that's it! he grinned. - Aren't you afraid of being left without a hand?

And he twisted my elbow so that I screamed.

“Believe me, sir, I am not afraid for myself, but for you. The captain sits with a naked dagger all the time. He's already hurt one...

- Well, get moving! the blind man interrupted me.

- As soon as he sees me, shout: “Here is your friend, Billy!”, otherwise ...

And with his iron fingers the blind man twisted my arm so that I almost fainted. I was already more afraid of this beggar than of the captain, and therefore I did everything as he ordered.

Seeing the guest, Billy Bones instantly sobered up. His face was distorted by a grimace, but not frightened, but rather suffering. He tried to get up and couldn't.

“Nothing, Billy, sit where you are,” said the beggar. “I can hear without my eyes how hard it is for you. But business is business. Stretch out your right hand... And you, boy, bring it to mine.

And I saw how he shifted something into the palm of the captain, who immediately clenched his fist.

“The deed is done,” said the blind man.

Having said this, he released me, with unexpected agility rushed out the door, and his stick again clattered on the frozen road.

The captain did not immediately come to his senses. Uncurling his fingers, he looked at the palm.

- Equal to ten! he cried. “Six more hours. Well, I'll give them...

Then he staggered, grabbed his throat and, groaning, fell face down.

I rushed to him, turned him over on his back, but it was too late. The doctor was not mistaken - Billy Bones could not stand the second apoplexy.

And a strange thing - I never loved and always feared this man, but now, standing over the unfortunate, useless dead man, I could not hold back my tears.

Captain's Chest

After I told my mother everything I knew, we decided that we were entitled to at least some of the captain's money - if, of course, he had any. But after all, the company of the Black Dog and the blind beggar were hunting for his chest. And they must have been around somewhere. I couldn't leave my mother alone - we both shuddered at the slightest noise. Then it was decided - before it got dark, go to the neighboring village.

Shivering from cold and fear, we ran all the way through the fog until we saw light in the windows of the nearest houses.

The locals were much more cowardly than us. Our stories and requests for help only terrified everyone. The mere mention of Captain Flint's name made them panicky. They also heard a lot about Billy Bones, and there was no question of defending someone else's tavern from his friends.

The cowardice of these hefty men, surprisingly, gave determination to a weak woman. And my mother announced that she was not going to deprive her only orphaned son of the money that was owed to his father.

Everyone raised a cry that, they say, this is madness, but no one volunteered to see us off. However, they gave me a loaded pistol and promised to get the horses ready if we ran away from the chase. True, there was one daredevil who galloped to the doctor for help.

The way back was even more unsettling, but, fortunately, we did not meet anyone and safely reached the tavern.

When I entered, the first thing I did was to close the bolt. Mother brought a candle, and we saw the captain, still lying on his back with his eyes open and his arm thrown aside. Next to the palm lay a black paper circle - the same “black mark”. I picked it up and on the back I saw an inscription made in an even, elegant handwriting: "Deadline - until ten in the evening."

“They gave him until ten, Mother,” I said.

And at that moment our old clock began to strike. We shuddered, but then breathed a sigh of relief - they hit only six.

“Close the curtains, Jim,” his mother whispered. - Let's try to find the key to the chest from him.

I searched all the pockets on the dead man, but I did not find the key.

- Look at the neck -

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mother suggested.

With difficulty overcoming disgust, I unbuttoned the collar of his shirt - and in fact, a key hung on a tarred rope!

I cut it off with the captain's knife, and we went upstairs to the coveted chest.

In appearance it was the most ordinary sailor's box, with shabby knocked down corners and the letter "B" burned out on the lid.

Mom opened the lock and flipped the lid back. The chest smelled of tobacco and tar. On top was a clean, neatly folded caftan, and under it were many different things: a quadrant, a mug, tobacco bars, four carved pistols, a small ingot of silver, a watch, two compasses, shells ... But no more valuables!

When we lifted up a piece of leather laid at the bottom, we saw an oilcloth bag with papers, and next to it was a small canvas bag.

“Let these bandits know that I am an honest woman,” said the mother, taking out gold pieces from him. “I'll take exactly as much as he underpaid us.

The bag contained a wide variety of coins - guineas, doubloons, louis, piastres, and some completely unfamiliar to me. Mother had already begun to count out the money when the familiar sound of a stick on the road came from the street. With bated breath, we listened to this approaching sound. Then there was a knock on the door, the bolt jerked and the door handle moved - the blind man tried to enter. But now everything was quiet, and then, to our relief, we heard the receding sound of a stick.

“Mom,” I whispered, “take everything and run away from here.”

However, my mother was a really honest person and did not want to take someone else's, no matter how I tried to convince her. But then a long whistle was heard from the direction of the hill, which ended our argument.

“Very well,” said the mother, “I will only take what I have time to count out.

“And I’ll grab this just in case,” I added, taking out a package from the chest.

Leaving a burning candle in the room, we went downstairs and went out onto the road. We had to hurry. The mist dissipated, and under the bright moon it became completely light. Suddenly, a thudding sound came from behind us. Looking around, we saw a jumping light of a lantern.

My mother nearly fainted. She told me to take the money and run alone. But I saw a bridge nearby and, mentally cursing the neighbors for cowardice, and my mother for being too honest, I helped her down to the bank of the stream. Climbing under the bridge, we froze and waited for our fate.

The Terrible Death of Blind Pew

Curiosity is sometimes stronger than fear - it was it that made me crawl upstairs and lie down under a bush so that I could see the tavern.

And so they appeared. There were seven or eight of them. A man with a lantern walked ahead, and among the others I saw a blind man.

- Break down the door! he shouted.

Blind Pew

However, the unlocked door puzzled the robbers and they began to confer.

- What are you pulling, blockheads, rather into the house! screeched the blind man.

Several people entered the tavern, and immediately a cry was heard:

Billy is dead!

"Then search him, you bastards!" The rest - upstairs, behind the chest!

Shoes clattered up the stairs, and soon someone flung open a window above, breaking the glass in the process.

- Hey, Pew, someone was already here and rummaged through the whole chest!

- And then on the spot?

- The money is here.

- To hell with your money! Where are Flint's papers?

- There are no papers to be seen.

“But the dead man doesn’t have them?”

One of the robbers appeared at the door.

“He was ransacked to us.

- This is the mistress with her puppy! the blind man gnashed his teeth. They were here when I came...

“Exactly,” the man at the window confirmed. - There is still a candle burning here ...

- Search the whole house! Pugh shouted, banging his stick.

The tavern began to rumble. But it didn't last long. The whistle came from the hill again, twice this time.

"It's Dirk," someone said excitedly. - Whistles twice, so it's time to dump.

- Where?! Pugh was furious. - Stupid! Dirk has always been a coward. They couldn't run far. Look for them near the house. Damn! If I have eyes...

But it was already noticeable that the robbers thought much more about flight than about searching.

– Idiots! A stone's throw away from you millions! These papers will make you richer than the king, and you are trying to get away! You cowards, none of you even dared to give Billy the black mark. This was done by me, a beggar, ragged blind man who could walk in silks and ride around in a carriage, and by your grace I miss my happiness! ..

“This money is enough for us,” one of them muttered.

“And they probably hid the papers,” another supported. "Stop freaking out, Pew, and let's get out of here."

The blind man really seemed to be furious. Cursing furiously, he began to beat his comrades with a stick, and they tried to snatch it from his hands.

And then from the direction of the village there was a clatter of hooves. The robbers scattered, leaving Pugh alone in the middle of the road. At first he banged with a stick in a rage, but then he froze in confusion and moved uncertainly towards the village.

He walked past me, and I heard his whiny voice:

- Johnny, Dark, Black Dog, my friends, you won't leave old Pew! ..

Then he heard the clatter of horses ahead and realized that he was going the wrong way. The blind man rushed about on the road, fell into a ditch and immediately jumped out of it - just under the feet of the first horse.

The rider did not have time to turn, and the desperate cry of the blind man cut through the darkness of the night. Thrown away by all four hooves, the blind man rolled over his head, fell face down and froze forever.

I called out to the horsemen. They were customs guards, and with them - the same neighbor's daredevil, who went to Dr. Livesey. It turns out that he met them on the way and told them about everything.

Mother, in a deep faint, was taken to the village. There she came to her senses and first of all regretted that she had not had time to take all the money due to us.

The guards set off in pursuit of the bandits, but it turns out that a ship was waiting for them in a nearby bay, on which they disappeared.

The commander of the customs officers, Mr. Dance, returned with me to the tavern, where everything was upside down, broken and broken. But only Billy Bones' bag with the remaining money was missing, and a few more coins - the contents of our cash register.

But since they took the money, what else did they need? said Mr. Dance.

“What they were looking for is in my pocket,” I replied.

“Can you give it to me?”

“I think it would be best to give this to Dr. Livesey…” I began.

- And that's true! - picked up the customs officer. “He is a decent gentleman and a judge, too. Here's the thing, Jim, let's go along with me - at the same time help me tell him about everything.

Of course, I agreed. We returned to the village. I said goodbye to my mother, I was put on a horse behind one of the riders, and we set off with the detachment to the house of Dr. Livesey.

Papers from the chest

It was already quite late, but the doctor was not at home. It turns out that he went to Squire Trelawney's in the afternoon and was supposed to spend the whole evening with him.

We went to the squire's manor, which was not far away. The servant let us into the spacious landowner's house and led us to the owner's office.

The walls of the study were lined with bookcases. Trelawney and Livesey were sitting near the fireplace.

Page 5 of 6

It was the first time I saw the squire up close. He was a large man, with a broad, fleshy, good-natured face, tanned and weather-beaten from his long wanderings. Movable black eyebrows and a strong-willed chin betrayed a very energetic character, but quick-tempered and somewhat arrogant.

“Come in, Mr. Dance,” he nodded indulgently.

“Good evening, Danse,” said the doctor. - Bah, Jim Hawkins, buddy, are you here? What wind took you?

The commander of the customs officers reported on everything that had happened. You should have seen how attentively they listened, how meaningfully they exchanged glances! Mr. Trelawney now and then began to pace the room, at times crying out "Bravo!", and even cracked his long pipe on the grate of the fireplace with delight. And the doctor took off his invariable wig - and with a short black haircut he looked very unusual.

“Congratulations, Mr. Dance,” the squire announced at the end of the story. - You behaved with dignity. And scumbags like this Pugh should be crushed like bedbugs. Well, you, Hawkins, are just a fine fellow!

“So, Jim,” said Livesey, “you have what they were looking for with you?”

“Here it is, sir. And I handed him the package.

The doctor was obviously eager to open it, but he still waited until Dans left and until I had supper. Then he and Trelawney looked at each other again.

"Well, squire...

Well, Livesey...

They said it at the same time and both laughed.

“Let’s go in order,” the doctor began. "You've heard of Flint, of course?"

Have I heard of Flint? exclaimed the squire. - Still not! It was the most bloodthirsty pirate in the world. Blackbeard is an innocent baby compared to him.

I have also heard a lot about him. But maybe his wealth is just rumors?

- Gossip?! Trelawney was outraged. - And for what, besides big money, these scoundrels would risk their skins?

“Wait a minute to get excited,” the doctor stopped him. “After all, even if we have the key to the treasures in our hands, are they big enough that it makes sense for us to risk it too?”

Are they big, you ask? Well, here's what I'll tell you. If we really have the key, I will immediately outfit the ship so that you and Hawkins will go on a treasure hunt with you and Hawkins!

“Very well,” said the doctor. “In that case, if Jim doesn’t mind, we’ll open up his find.”

With surgical scissors, he cut the threads with which the bag was sewn up. Inside were a notebook and a sealed envelope.

“Let's start with a notebook,” said the doctor, and opened the first page. The squire and I leaned over the table impatiently.

On the first sheet, apparently, they just tried the pen, and almost the rest of the notebook was filled with strange entries - between dates and numbers at the ends of the lines there were a different number of crosses. Sometimes the name of the place was added, for example: "Against Caracas", or the latitude and longitude were indicated. For twenty years of recordings, the amounts kept increasing, and at the end the result was summed up and there was an inscription: "Bones' share."

“I don’t understand anything,” Livesey said.

- And in my opinion, everything is clearer than clear! exclaimed the squire. “We have before us the ledger of your friend the captain. Crosses are sunken ships. The exact location is indicated, most likely in the case of particularly large production. This means that a large merchant ship was robbed against Caracas. And the numbers are the share of this thug.

- Right! said the doctor. “That’s what the traveler’s experience means!” And note that his share grew - apparently, with an increase in rank.

The rest of the pages were only geographical names and comparative tables of monetary units different countries.

“Yes, you won’t fool such a diligent accountant at the exchange rate,” the doctor grinned.

“Now,” said Trelawney, rubbing his hands, “let's see what we have here.”

The doctor carefully broke the wax seals on the envelope, and a map of some island fell on the table. It was very detailed, indicating the coordinates, the topography of the land and the bottom, with the designations of objects, with many inscriptions and icons.

With its outline, the island resembled a pot-bellied dragon on its hind legs. It was nine miles long and five miles wide. Two bays and a hill in the very center called "Spyglass" were visible.

Among all the icons, three red crosses stood out especially - two in the north and one in the middle. Near the latter, in the same red ink, in even small handwriting, was the inscription: “Here is the main treasure.”

On the back of the card, in the same handwriting, was written:

“A tall tree on the slope of the Spyglass, to the right to N. from N.-N.-E.

Skeleton Island E.-S.-E. and on V.

Ten feet.

Silver bars in the northern pit. You will find her on the slope of the eastern hill, ten fathoms south of black rock if you stand facing her.

Weapons are easy to find in the sandy hill on the north end of the Northern Cape, keep to the east and a quarter of a rhumb to the north.

Personally, I did not understand anything from these notes, but both gentlemen were delighted.

“Livesey,” said Trelawney, “give up your miserable country practice. From now on, you will be the ship's doctor. Jim will make a great cabin boy. And I hope I'll make a good admiral ... Yes, yes, I'm going to Bristol immediately, and in three weeks ... no, two ... no, in ten days we will have the best ship and the most select crew in all of England. It doesn’t take long to sail to the island, to find treasures - as easy as shelling pears, and there at least waste money, at least swim in them!

“Trelawny,” said the doctor, “I will sail with you. I vouch for Jim Hawkins too. But there is one person I'm not quite sure about.

- Who is this wicked one? The squire raised his eyebrows.

“You,” the doctor replied. “Your trouble is that you don’t know how to keep your mouth shut. We are not the only ones who know about the map. Those others - and there are not so few of them - are a desperate people, and on the way to treasures they will stop at nothing. And therefore, the main thing that is required of you is not a word about our find to anyone.

“You are right, as always,” sighed the squire. "I'll be dumb as a grave."

Part two

ship's cook

To Bristol!

Mr. Trelawney was wrong - the preparations took much longer than he promised. The doctor went to London to look for a replacement, and I lived for several weeks in agonizing expectation at the squire's estate under the care of the old huntsman Redruth. But I learned the map by heart and already mentally traveled around the island, escaping from predators and fighting off savages.

But finally, Redruth brought the long-awaited letter addressed to the doctor, and in case of his absence, to mine.

"Dear Livesey! wrote the squire. “I don’t know where you are now, so I sent the same letter to London.

The ship is ready to sail. This is an amazing schooner that even a child can manage. It's called "Hispaniola". It was not easy to prepare it, but as soon as I hinted at the search for treasure, everything went like clockwork ... "

“So he did spill the beans after all,” I told Redruth. The doctor won't like this.

- Think doctor! the huntsman grumbled. “The Squire is still in charge.

“It was harder to pick a team,” I read on. - With difficulty, I managed to find six, but then I was lucky - I met a person who settled everything in one moment.

This is an old sailor, lives

Page 6 of 6

nearby and contains a tavern. He is tired of dry land and is looking for a job as a ship's cook, despite the fact that he has no leg. He lost her in the battles for his homeland under the command of Admiral Hawk. And imagine, he is not paid a pension. What a time to live!

If only you could hear with what love he speaks of the sea! His name is Lanky John Silver, and he knows everyone in Bristol.

In just a few days, he picked up a ready-made crew for me from desperate, sea-salted daredevils. And of the six that I hired in a hurry, John advised me to fire a few, convincing me that they were not seafarers, but freshwater fry.

I feel great, I don’t complain about appetite and sleep, but I will be completely happy only when I hear the singing of the gate lifting the anchor. And I don't care about money! No treasure can compare with the intoxicating aroma of a fair sea wind! So I'm waiting for you with young Hawkins and old Redruth.

John Trelawney

P.S. I forgot to tell you that we found a great captain. He's a fine man, but damn stubborn. Silver brought a navigator, and I got a boatswain, masterfully whistling signals on his pipe. So our "Hispaniola" will be no worse than any warship.

By the way, Silver is not a poor man at all. He has a bank account. And his wife is dark-skinned and will herself manage his tavern. Not otherwise, because it is precisely because of her that he is torn into the sea ...

P.P.S. Have Hawkins sleep over with his mother.

I felt like I was in seventh heaven. The very next morning, Redruth and I went to our Admiral Benbow. Mother was in good health and in good spirits, for Squire Trelawny had paid for the repair of the inn, given her some of the furniture, and sent the boy to help in my place.

The next day after dinner, I said goodbye to my mother, to the house, to the bay, remembered Captain Billy Bones, his cocked hat and spyglass - and, accompanied by the huntsman, went out onto the road.

In the evening, near the hotel, we boarded a post coach, where I fell asleep almost immediately and woke up in Bristol early in the morning.

Mr. Trelawny took up residence here in an inn across from the docks, to supervise the preparation of the schooner. Walking along the embankment, I looked at the carved figures on the bows of the ships in complete delight, listened to the sailors' singing and inhaled the aroma of shavings, tar and salt. I eagerly looked at the old sailors with earrings in their ears, thick sideburns and tarred pigtails.

Tom Redruth

I admired their chic waddling gait and felt that the embankment under my feet was also beginning to sway like a deck. These are the ships waiting for me in the port, these are the people with whom I will go on a long voyage in search of countless treasures! ..

Near the tavern we were met by a squire dressed in a blue officer's uniform. He, too, swayed, imitating the sea wolves.

- Welcome! he exclaimed. The doctor arrived yesterday. Now everything is assembled.

“Sir,” I asked, fading, “when is the sailing time?”

How, "when"? he wondered. - Of course, tomorrow.

Tavern on the waterfront

After breakfast the squire sent me with a note to John Silver at the Spyglass Tavern on the waterfront. Satisfied with the opportunity to once again stare at the ships, I set off and soon found a tavern.

It was clean, comfortable and quite light. The sailors at the tables smoked their pipes and spoke in the habit of the sea at the top of their voices.

I recognized lanky John at once. He was a tall man, apparently very strong, with a flat and wide face, like a cut ham. He stepped out of the side door, hopping deftly on his crutch. His left leg was cut off at the very hip. His eyes shone with intelligence and joy. Passing between the tables, he cracked jokes and patted old acquaintances on the shoulders.

To be honest, when I read about Lanky John in the Squire's letter, I immediately thought if this was the one-legged sailor that Billy Bones scared me with. But when I saw this smiling and good-natured invalid, I discarded all suspicions - before that he did not look like a bandit from the blind Pew's company. And I boldly went straight to him.

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Gundshpug - a lever for lifting weights.

Kvadra?NT - a device for measuring the height of celestial bodies.

Squire is a title of nobility in England.

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1. OLD SEAL AT THE ADMIRAL BENBOW tavern
Squire note 1 Trelawney, Dr. Livesey, and other gentlemen have asked me to write down everything I know about Treasure Island. They want me to tell the whole story, from beginning to end, with no details except geographical location islands. It is still impossible to indicate where this island lies, since even now treasures are stored there, which we did not take out. And now, 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 sunburned sailor with a saber scar on his cheek settled in this tavern.
I remember, as if it were yesterday, how, stepping heavily, he dragged himself to our doors, and his sea chest was carried behind him in a wheelbarrow. He was a tall, strong, overweight man with a dark face. A tarred pigtail stuck out above the collar of his greasy blue caftan. His hands were rough, in some kind of scars, his nails were black, broken, and the saber scar on his cheek was dirty white, with a lead tinge. I remember how a stranger, whistling, looked around our bay and suddenly burst into 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 squeaky note 3 drumming.
And he had a stick, like a note 4 gunshoe. He knocked on our door with this stick and, when my father came out on the threshold, he rudely demanded a glass of rum.
The rum was served to him, and with the air of a connoisseur he slowly began to savor every sip. He drank and glanced first at the rocks, then at the tavern sign.
“The bay is comfortable,” he said at last. - Not a bad place for a tavern. Lots of people, mate?
The father replied that no, unfortunately, very little.
- Nu that same! said the sailor. - This one... just for me... Hey, buddy! he shouted to the man who was pushing the wheelbarrow behind him. - Come here and help me drag the chest ... I'll live here for a while,
he continued. - I am a simple person. Rum, pork belly and scrambled eggs, that's all I need. Yes, there is that cape from which ships passing through the sea are visible ... What should I be called? Well, call me captain... Ege, I see what you want! Here!
And he threw three or four gold coins on the threshold.
“When these run out, 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 used to being obeyed. It was felt that he liked to give free rein to his fist. The man with the wheelbarrow told us that the stranger had arrived yesterday morning by post at the King George's Inn and asked about all the inns near the sea. Having heard about our tavern, which must have been good reviews, and having learned that it was flying away, the captain decided to move in with us. That's all we managed to find out about our guest.
He was a silent man. For whole days 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, slightly diluting it with water. He did not answer if spoken to. Only he will cast a fierce glance 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 if any sailors were passing along our road. At first we thought that he lacked the company of the same boobies as himself. But in the end, we began to understand that he wanted to be away from them. If any sailor, making his way along the coastal road to Bristol, stopped at the Admiral Benbow, the captain would first look at him from behind the curtain of the door, and only then would he go out into the drawing room. In the presence of such people, he always sat quietly as a mouse.
I knew what was the matter, because the captain shared his anxiety with me. One day he took me aside and promised to pay me fourpence silver on the first of every month if I "look in both eyes for a sailor on one leg" and let him know as soon as I saw one. When the first day came and I turned to him for the promised salary, he only blew his nose and glared at me savagely. But not even a week passed, when, after thinking, he brought me a coin and repeated the order not to let the "sailor on one leg" pass.
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 at the knee, at the very hip. Sometimes he seemed to me like some kind of terrible monster, in which one and only leg grows from the very middle of the body. He chased me on that one leg, jumping over wattle fences and ditches. My fourpence was dear to me every month: I paid for it with these disgusting dreams.
But no matter how terrible 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 shook, and then he would remain for a long time in the tavern and sing his old, wild, cruel sea songs, paying no attention to anyone present. And it also happened that he invited everyone to his table and demanded glasses. Those invited trembled with fright, and he forced them either to listen to his stories of sea adventures, or to sing along with him in chorus. The walls of our house then trembled from "Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum," as all the visitors, fearing his violent anger, tried to shout over each other and sing as loudly as possible, if only the captain was pleased with them, because at such hours he was unbridledly formidable: now he pounded his fist on the table, demanding that everyone be silent; then he would become furious if someone interrupted his speech, asked him some question; then, on the contrary, he became furious if he was addressed 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 drunk wine and he staggered to his bed.
But the worst of all were his stories. Terrible tales of gallows, plank-walking note 5, storms and Dry Tortugas note 6, robber nests and robber exploits in the Spanish Sea note 7.
Judging by his stories, he spent his whole life among the most notorious villains that have ever been on the sea. And the abuse that flew out of his mouth after every word frightened our simple-hearted village people no less than the crimes he spoke about.
Father constantly said that we would have to close our tavern: the captain would drive away all the visitors from us. Who wants to be subjected to such abuse and tremble with horror on the way home! However, I think that the captain, on the contrary, brought us more benefits. True, the visitors were afraid of him, but a day later they were again drawn to him. In a quiet, provincial life, he introduced some kind of pleasant anxiety. Among the youth there were even admirers of the captain, who declared that they admired him. “A real sea wolf, salted through the sea! ' they exclaimed.
According to them, it was people like our captain who made England a thunderstorm on the seas.
But, on the other hand, this person really brought us losses. Week after week, month after month; the money that he gave us when he appeared had long since 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 hinted at the payment, the captain began to sniff furiously; it was not even a sniff, but a growl; he looked at his father so that he flew out of the room in horror. I saw how, after such attempts, he wringed his hands in despair. I have no doubt that these fears greatly hastened my father's sad and untimely death.
Throughout his stay with us, the captain went about in the same clothes, he only bought a few pairs of stockings from a peddler. One edge of his hat drooped; the captain left it like that, although in a strong wind it 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 have ever seen 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 the patient. He examined the patient, ate hastily the dinner my mother gave 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, as there was no stable in the old Benbow.
I led him into the common room and I remember how this elegant, smartly dressed doctor in a snow-white wig, black-eyed, well-mannered, struck me with his dissimilarity with the village bumpkins who visited our tavern. He was especially sharply different from our crow's scarecrow, a dirty, gloomy, overweight pirate who splashed himself with rum and sat with his elbows on the table.
Suddenly the captain roared his eternal song:
Fifteen men for a dead man's chest.
Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!
Drink and the devil will take 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 stands upstairs in the captain's room.
In my terrible dreams, 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. This 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 cure for rheumatism. Meanwhile the captain, inflamed by his own singing, struck 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 again struck the table with his fist, then looked even more piercingly and suddenly yelled, accompanying his words with obscene abuse:
- Hey, there, on deck, be silent!
Are you talking to me, sir? the doctor asked.
He said that it was for him, and, moreover, cursed again.
"In that case, sir, I'll tell you one thing," replied the doctor. - If you do not stop drinking, you will soon rid the world of one of the most vile scoundrels!
The captain flew into a violent rage. He sprang to his feet, drew and opened his sailor's folding knife, and threatened the doctor that he would pin him to the wall.
The Doctor didn't even move. He continued to speak 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 away, I swear on your honor that you will hang on the gallows after the first session of our circuit court.
A duel began between their eyes. But the captain soon gave up. He put away 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 am not only a doctor, I am 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 drastic measures to have you taken away and kicked out of here. I won't say anything more.
Soon a horse was brought to Dr. Livesey, and he galloped away. But the captain was quiet and meek all evening, and remained so for many more evenings in a row.

LIBRARY OF ADVENTURES

AND SCIENCE FICTION

NOVOSIBIRSK ~ 1991

R. L. STEVENSON

TREASURE ISLAND

BLACK ARROW

STRANGE STORY

THE DOCTORS

JEKYLA

MISTERA

HAYDA

TRANSLATION FROM ENGLISH

"CHILDREN'S LITERATURE"

Siberian branch

BBC 84. 4 Vl .

FROM 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 Trelawny, 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 other than the geographic location of the island. It is still impossible to indicate where this island lies, since even now treasures are stored there, which we did not take out of there. And now, 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, stepping heavily, he dragged himself to our doors, and his sea chest was carried behind him in a wheelbarrow. He was a tall, strong, overweight man with a swarthy face. A tarred pigtail stuck out above the collar of his greasy blue caftan. His hands were rough, in some kind of scars, his nails were black, broken, and the saber scar on his cheek was dirty white, with a lead tinge. I remember how a stranger, whistling, looked around our bay and suddenly burst into an old sailor's song, which he later sang so often:

Fifteen men for a dead man's chest.

[¹Vymbovka - the lever of the spire (the gate used to lift the anchor).]

And his stick was like a handgun¹. He rapped on our door with this stick, and when my father came out on the threshold, he rudely demanded a glass of rum.

[¹Handspug is a lever for lifting weights.]

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

The bay is comfortable, he said at last. Not a bad place for a tavern. Lots of people, mate?

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 pushing the wheelbarrow behind him. i'm simple. Rum, pork belly, scrambled eggs, that's all I need. Yes, there is that cape from which ships passing through the sea are visible ... What should I be called? Well, call me captain... Ege, I see what you want! Here!

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

When these run out, 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 likes to give free rein to his fist. The man with the wheelbarrow told us that the stranger had arrived yesterday morning by post at the King George's Inn and asked about all the inns near the sea. Probably, having heard good reviews about our tavern and having learned that it was flying away, the captain decided to settle with us. That's all we managed to find out about our guest.

He was a silent man. For whole days 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, slightly diluting it with water. He did not answer if spoken to. Only he will cast a fierce glance 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 if any sailors were passing along our road. At first, we thought that he lacked the company of the same boobies as himself. But in the end, we began to understand that he wanted to be away from them. If any sailor, making his way along the coastal road to Bristol, stopped at the Admiral Benbow, the captain would first look at him from behind the curtain of the door, and only then would he go out into the drawing room. In the presence of such people, he always sat quietly as a mouse.

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

four pence in silver every month, if I keep an eye out for a sailor on one leg anywhere, and let him know as soon as I see one. When the first day came and I turned to him for the promised salary, he only blew his nose and glared at me fiercely. But not even a week passed, when, after thinking, he brought me a coin and repeated the order not to let the "sailor on one leg" pass.

Well, I suffered fear with this one-legged sailor! He haunted me even in my sleep. 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 at the knee, at the very hip. Sometimes he seemed to me some kind of terrible monster, whose one and only leg grows from the very middle of the body. He chased me on that one leg, jumping over wattle fences and ditches. My fourpence was dear to me every month: I paid for it with these disgusting dreams.

But no matter how terrible 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 shook, and then he would remain for a long time in the tavern and sing his old, wild, cruel sea songs, paying no attention to anyone present. And it also happened that he invited everyone to his table, demanded glasses and forced timid drinking companions either to listen to his stories about sea adventures, or to sing along with him in chorus. The walls of our house then trembled from "Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum," as all the visitors, fearing his violent anger, tried to shout over each other and sing as loudly as possible, if only the captain was pleased with them, because at such hours he was unbridledly formidable: now he pounded his fist on the table, demanding that everyone be silent; then he would become furious if someone interrupted his speech, asked him some question; then, on the contrary, he became furious if he was not addressed 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 drunk wine and he staggered to his bed.

But the worst of all were his stories. Terrible tales of gallows, plank-walking¹, storms and the Dry Tortugas islands², robber nests and robber exploits in the Spanish Sea³.

© Pereskaz, Mikhailov M., 2015

© Il., Lee K., 2015

© Il., Saltykov M. M., 2015

© LLC AST Publishing House, 2015

* * *

Part one
old pirate

Chapter I
New guest of the Admiral Benbow tavern

This story began on the day when an old tanned sailor with a scar on his cheek appeared near the Admiral Benbow Inn, which was run by my father. I remember how he glanced over our bay and suddenly in a hoarse voice uttered the beginning of an old sailor's song:

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

Then he hit with his stick, like a handgun 1
Lever- lever for lifting weights.

At our door, and when my father opened it, he rudely demanded rum.

Well, that's a good place to park! he said, sipping from his glass. "I'll probably drop anchor here for a little while." I am a simple person. Rum, scrambled eggs, pork belly, plus a view of the sea - that's all I need. Until then, hold on!

With these words, he threw several gold coins to the threshold.

“When you need it, you can tell me, I’ll give you more,” he added and ordered his chest to be brought in.

As we learned later, his name was Billy Bones, but he himself ordered to call himself captain. And in fact, despite the shabby clothes and rough manners, the new guest did not look like a simple sailor.

He was uncommunicative. During the day he wandered along the coast with a telescope, from time to time looking at the sea distance, and in the evenings he sat in a tavern by the fire and drank rum. He did not enter into conversations with anyone, and in answer to questions he only furiously moved his eyebrows and whistled his nose like a ship's siren. So soon everyone left him alone, which he seemed to need. And if any sailor came to us, bound for Bristol, he watched him for a long time and warily from behind the curtain before going out.

I understood what was the matter. One day the captain secretly promised to pay me fourpence a month to see if a one-legged sailor appeared anywhere, and if I saw him, I immediately informed him.

Oh, and I suffered for these four pence! This one-legged man dreamed of me every night. He followed me, jumping over boulders and fences. Sometimes he seemed to me like some kind of monster - his only leg grew from his chest, then from his back. And I woke up in a cold sweat.

And yet I was much more afraid of the captain himself. On other evenings, he would get so high on rum that he would start singing terrible sea songs.

And sometimes he called visitors to his table, treated everyone to wine and demanded that they sing along with him in chorus. And everyone obediently picked up, trying to outshout each other, because the captain was terrible in anger. And he was angry for any reason and then did not let anyone out of the tavern until the drunk rum knocked him down.

And sometimes he made me listen to his stories, and that was the worst of all. Chilling stories about shipwrecks, atrocities of pirates, gallows and other cruel executions thrilled not only me, but also adult listeners. Apparently, his life was spent surrounded only by villains and scoundrels.

My father was initially afraid that the captain would scare away all the visitors. But oddly enough, the locals were drawn to him. He brought something new into their lives, he was part of that world where extraordinary, bright events take place, where storms rage and passions boil. “This is a real sea wolf!” youth admired. Yes, it was these people who brought England the glory of "thunderstorms of the seas."

However, the losses from it were also considerable. A month passed, another; the money we received from him on the first day ran out long ago, and he did not pay new ones. The father once tried to remind the captain about the payment, but he growled in response so that the poor fellow ran out the door in horror. I think that the fear of the guest hastened his premature death.

And so it went on - the captain still tried not to communicate with anyone, except for those evenings when he was very drunk. He received no letters and did not write anywhere himself. His clothes were worn out, and he did not seem to have another. And no one has ever seen him look into his chest.

Billy Bones

Everyone, as before, trembled before him, and only one person dared to object to him. It happened like this.

One evening, Dr. Livesey came to see my ailing father. After examining the patient and having a hasty lunch with what my mother had prepared, he went down to the common room. It immediately became noticeable how different the doctor was from the village squalor. In an impeccable suit, a snow-white wig, graceful, polite, he sat down and, slowly smoking his pipe, started a conversation with the gardener.

Billy Bones had just loaded himself with rum that evening and was sitting alone on the table. Suddenly he roared at the top of his lungs:

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

Everyone is already used to this song, but the doctor obviously did not like it. He interrupted the conversation and looked displeasedly at the singer. And he slammed his fist on the table with all his might, demanding silence.

Everyone immediately fell silent, and only the doctor continued his leisurely conversation about medicines for rheumatism. The captain glared at him and slammed his fist in front of him again.

- Hey, there, on the deck, be silent! he yelled, swearing dirty in addition.

- Is that you for me, sir? Livesey asked.

- It's for you! - And the drunken ignoramus confirmed his words with even more vile abuse.

“In that case, let me tell you,” said the doctor, “that if you do not stop drinking, there will soon be one less vile scoundrel in this world.

You should have seen how pissed off the captain was! Cursing, he sprang to his feet, drew a sailor's knife, and announced that he would nail the doctor to the wall with it.

The doctor didn't raise an eyebrow. He did not even turn to the drunk, and looking at him over his shoulder, calmly said:

“If you don’t remove the knife immediately, I swear on my honor, in a couple of days you will be hanging in a noose by the decision of the local circuit court.”

Their eyes met, and the intrepid captain suddenly lowered his eyes. He slipped the knife into his pocket and sat down heavily on the bench, grumbling like a battered old dog.

“And from now on, sir,” continued Livesey, “you will be closely monitored. I am not only a doctor here, but also a judge. Keep in mind - if you even once dare to be rude to someone, like now, you will be thrown out of here in no time. Thank you for attention.

And even after the doctor left, Billy Bones was meek and quiet as a mouse all that evening and for several days.

Dr. Livesey

Chapter II
Visit of the Black Dog

When winter came and the bitter cold began, it became clear that my father was unlikely to live until spring. The entire household was left to my mother and me, and we were no longer up to the captain.

One early frosty morning, when the sun had not yet risen and illuminated only the tops of the hills and the sea in the distance, the captain, having risen earlier than usual, went to the sea. I saw him, holding a telescope under his arm and muttering something under his breath, disappeared behind a high cliff.

My mother remained in my father's room, and I began to lay the table for breakfast. Suddenly the door opened and a stranger appeared on the threshold.

Accustomed to looking at the sailors - whether one-legged or not - I was somewhat puzzled. The guest had a sallow, not tanned face, and apart from a dagger there was nothing marine in it. But for some reason it immediately seemed to me that he was a sailor.

At first he asked for rum, but then changed his mind and, sitting down at the table, called me to him.

- Not otherwise, you set the table for my friend Billy?

I replied that the table was set for our guest, who asked to be called captain.

“So it is,” smiled the guest. “Billy always dreamed of being called that. He also has a scar on his right cheek, doesn't he? And he has the most pleasant manners, especially when he drinks ... In a word: how can I see my good old friend Billy?

- He went for a walk.

- How far?

I pointed to the cliff outside the window.

- And how long?

- Not too much.

He asked me about something else and finally nodded in satisfaction.

“Well, I think Billy will be as happy with me as he is with a free drink.

But looking at the ominous expression on his face, I doubted it. However, this did not concern me, and I went to the door. However, the stranger did not let me leave.

“I think it's better for you to stay. And do not try to argue with me, my boy. If you could swim with people like Billy! It was not customary for them to repeat twice ... Ah, here, it seems, is my long-awaited friend! Come on, son, let's play old Billy, God bless him ...

I felt uncomfortable when he made me hide behind the open door with him. In addition, the guest himself was pretty cowardly - I saw how he grabbed the dagger and slightly pulled it out of its scabbard.

And then the captain burst into the tavern. Closing the door, he moved to the set table.

- Billy! the stranger called out softly.

The captain turned on his heel, and the tan seemed to have come off his face. Perhaps that's how they turn pale when they meet a ghost.

“What, you don’t recognize your shipmate?”

The captain opened and closed his mouth like a fish in the sand.

- Black Dog! he said with difficulty.

"He's the best," smiled the stranger. "Why shouldn't Black Dog visit an old friend?" After all, how much water and rum have flown under the bridge since I lost a pair of claws! And he raised his hand, which was missing two fingers.

“All right,” said the captain. - Since you tracked me down, tell me why you came.

“I recognize old Billy!” Well, let's talk, and the boy will serve us rum for now.

When I brought the bottle, Black Dog sent me to the kitchen and told me to leave the door open.

“This is so that you, my friend, will not be tempted to peep through the keyhole,” he explained.

From the kitchen, at first, only unintelligible conversation was heard from me. But the captain gradually raised his voice. Finally he shouted:

- No, no, no way! And enough about that!

- If you are upturned, then together with everyone!

In response, there was a rude abuse, then there was a roar of overturned furniture, a clang of steel and someone's scream. Looking out the door, I saw the captain chasing his guest running towards the door. Both were holding daggers, and Black Dog had blood on his shoulder. Right at the door, the captain swung his dagger into the fleeing man's back, but the blade caught on the sign "Admiral Benbow" - the mark on it is still visible.

Black Dog

Black Dog jumped out onto the road, and only we saw him. And the captain froze in the doorway, staring blankly at the sign. Then he passed his hand over his face and grabbed the door frame.

- Jim, Roma! he croaked.

- You are not injured? I exclaimed.

- I said Roma! repeated the captain. - You need to hustle...

But as I was returning with the rum, I heard something thump heavily on the floor, and saw the captain stretched out to his full height in the middle of the room. His face was purplish, and he was breathing rapidly and heavily.

My mother and I tried to help him. I wanted to pour rum into his mouth, but his jaws were clenched, and he didn't open his eyes either.

Luckily for us, Dr. Livesey just arrived to see my father.

- Doctor, help! we pleaded. He appears to be injured...

"It's not a wound," the doctor replied. It's called a "hit". It couldn't be otherwise... Bring the basin, Hawkins. Nothing to do, let's try to save this thrice worthless life. I hope you're not afraid of blood?

When the doctor rolled up the captain's sleeve, tattoos became visible on the muscular tanned arm: "For luck", "Seven feet under the keel", "Good luck to Billy Bones", as well as a drawing of a man on the gallows.

“A very suitable plot,” Livesey grinned and opened the captain’s vein with a lancet.

Much dark blood flowed from his hand before the captain woke up.

- Where is the Black Dog? – the first thing he asked, trying to get up.

“There are no dogs here, except for one, named Rom, who gnaws at you from the inside,” the doctor replied. “I told you, if you drink so much, you will end up badly.” So you had an apoplexy. And, believe me, it did not give me the slightest joy to pull you out of the other world. And I warn you, Mr. Bones...

"I'm not Bones," the captain muttered.

- Never mind. But if you get drunk again, I swear by my wig, you will soon go to the underworld, where, apparently, they will not wait for you.

We barely dragged the captain upstairs and put him to bed.

“Now for you the word “rum” means “death,” the doctor said finally. “One glass won't kill you, of course, but you won't be able to stop. You won't survive the second blow.

Chapter III
Black label

At noon, I brought the captain medicine.

“But the doctor—” I began.

He interrupted me with rude abuse.

“Your doctor is just a fool. What does he understand? And what does he know about my life? In those parts where I have been, where from earthquakes the land under my feet swayed like a deck, where people died like flies from yellow fever - only rum saved me. He was my food, and water, and wife, and friend. And now, without a sip of rum, I'll be like a broken ship washed ashore. Besides, ghosts will start to appear to me - yes, yes, I already saw old Flint over there in the corner. From such nightmares I go wild ... And then, the doctor himself said that one glass would not hurt me. I will give you a golden guinea for him... Otherwise I will die, and you will be guilty!

In fact, I remembered the words of the doctor, and this calmed me somewhat.

“I don’t need your money,” I answered proudly. - So be it, I'll bring you a glass, but only one.

I brought the rum and the captain drank it in one go.

- Well that's just wonderful! - he said. - Immediately feel better. And how long will I have to lie down?

- The doctor said - a week, at least ...

- Thunder and lightning! exclaimed Billy Bones. - What week is it? I'm telling you, I need to get out of here, otherwise they will send me a black mark ...

He tried to stand up, but his legs couldn't hold him.

"Damn doctor," he muttered. - He drained all the blood from me ... Listen, Jim, did you see the Black Dog today? Well, these are terrible people. They tracked me down, but know that they don't need me, they get to my chest. What lies in it was given to me by Flint himself before his death, and now I alone know where that place is ... If they send me a black mark, jump at full speed ... well, at least to this neat doctor - let him collect all sorts of there are judges and witnesses to cover this whole gang right here in the tavern! .. But this is only after the black mark, or if you see a one-legged sailor. Who do you fear the most...

What is a "black mark"? I asked.

Well, it's kind of like an agenda. So don't miss it, my boy, and I swear to you... you and I will split everything in half...

He obviously began to talk, and soon fell into oblivion.

I thought - what if he regrets his frankness and kills me? I wanted to go straight to the doctor. But that day my father got worse, and in the evening he died. From grief and the troubles that had fallen on us, my mother and I forgot to think about the guest and our fear of him.

And in the morning the captain went downstairs as if nothing had happened. By evening, he was drunk as usual, and, despite the impending funeral, he sang his rollicking song at the top of his voice, laying his dagger in front of him. He was still very weak, but the old fear again seized me. In addition, the doctor was far away - he was called to the patient in a distant village.

The day after the funeral, I went outside. The morning was cold and foggy, to match my dreary thoughts about my father.

Suddenly I saw a hunched old man in a tattered sailor's cloak with a hood walking along the road, feeling it with a stick. He had a green visor above his eyes. Apparently he was blind. Having reached the tavern, the old man stopped and, turning to no one knows whom, bleated in a nasal voice in a singsong voice:

“Will some good man inform the unfortunate blind man who lost his sight in the battles for his native England—may the Lord prolong the days of King George—in what blessed country he is at the moment?”

“You are in Black Hill Bay, near the Admiral Benbow Inn,” I replied.

I shuddered as that vile, eyeless ghost clung to my outstretched hand like a tong.

“Now, my dear, take me to the captain.”

“Sir,” I murmured, “on my word, I’m afraid…”

- Ah, that's it! he grinned. - Aren't you afraid of being left without a hand?

And he twisted my elbow so that I screamed.

“Believe me, sir, I am not afraid for myself, but for you. The captain sits with a naked dagger all the time. He's already hurt one...

- Well, get moving! the blind man interrupted me.

- As soon as he sees me, shout: “Here is your friend, Billy!”, otherwise ...

And with his iron fingers the blind man twisted my arm so that I almost fainted. I was already more afraid of this beggar than of the captain, and therefore I did everything as he ordered.

Seeing the guest, Billy Bones instantly sobered up. His face was distorted by a grimace, but not frightened, but rather suffering. He tried to get up and couldn't.

“Nothing, Billy, sit where you are,” said the beggar. “I can hear without my eyes how hard it is for you. But business is business. Stretch out your right hand... And you, boy, bring it to mine.

And I saw how he shifted something into the palm of the captain, who immediately clenched his fist.

“The deed is done,” said the blind man.

Having said this, he released me, with unexpected agility rushed out the door, and his stick again clattered on the frozen road.

The captain did not immediately come to his senses. Uncurling his fingers, he looked at the palm.

- Equal to ten! he cried. “Six more hours. Well, I'll give them...

Then he staggered, grabbed his throat and, groaning, fell face down.

I rushed to him, turned him over on his back, but it was too late. The doctor was not mistaken - Billy Bones could not stand the second apoplexy.

And a strange thing - I never loved and always feared this man, but now, standing over the unfortunate, useless dead man, I could not hold back my tears.

Chapter IV
Captain's Chest

After I told my mother everything I knew, we decided that we were entitled to at least some of the captain's money - if, of course, he had any. But after all, the company of the Black Dog and the blind beggar were hunting for his chest. And they must have been around somewhere. I couldn't leave my mother alone - we both shuddered at the slightest noise. Then it was decided - before it got dark, go to the neighboring village.

Shivering from cold and fear, we ran all the way through the fog until we saw light in the windows of the nearest houses.

The locals were much more cowardly than us. Our stories and requests for help only terrified everyone. The mere mention of Captain Flint's name made them panicky. They also heard a lot about Billy Bones, and there was no question of defending someone else's tavern from his friends.

The cowardice of these hefty men, surprisingly, gave determination to a weak woman. And my mother announced that she was not going to deprive her only orphaned son of the money that was owed to his father.

Everyone raised a cry that, they say, this is madness, but no one volunteered to see us off. However, they gave me a loaded pistol and promised to get the horses ready if we ran away from the chase. True, there was one daredevil who galloped to the doctor for help.

The way back was even more unsettling, but, fortunately, we did not meet anyone and safely reached the tavern.

When I entered, the first thing I did was to close the bolt. Mother brought a candle, and we saw the captain, still lying on his back with his eyes open and his arm thrown aside. Next to the palm lay a black paper circle - the same “black mark”. I picked it up and on the back I saw an inscription made in an even, elegant handwriting: "Deadline - until ten in the evening."

“They gave him until ten, Mother,” I said.

And at that moment our old clock began to strike. We shuddered, but then breathed a sigh of relief - they hit only six.

“Close the curtains, Jim,” his mother whispered. - Let's try to find the key to the chest from him.

I searched all the pockets on the dead man, but I did not find the key.

“Look at the neck,” said the mother.

With difficulty overcoming disgust, I unbuttoned the collar of his shirt - and in fact, a key hung on a tarred rope!

I cut it off with the captain's knife, and we went upstairs to the coveted chest.

In appearance it was the most ordinary sailor's box, with shabby knocked down corners and the letter "B" burned out on the lid.

Mom opened the lock and flipped the lid back. The chest smelled of tobacco and tar. On top lay a clean, neatly folded caftan, and under it were many different things: a quadrant 2
Quadrant- a device for measuring the height of celestial bodies.

A mug, tobacco bars, four carved pistols, a small piece of silver, a watch, two compasses, shells… But no more valuables!

When we lifted up a piece of leather laid at the bottom, we saw an oilcloth bag with papers, and next to it was a small canvas bag.

“Let these bandits know that I am an honest woman,” said the mother, taking out gold pieces from him. “I'll take exactly as much as he underpaid us.

The bag contained a wide variety of coins - guineas, doubloons, louis, piastres, and some completely unfamiliar to me. Mother had already begun to count out the money when the familiar sound of a stick on the road came from the street. With bated breath, we listened to this approaching sound. Then there was a knock on the door, the bolt jerked and the door handle moved - the blind man tried to enter. But now everything was quiet, and then, to our relief, we heard the receding sound of a stick.