After breakfast, the squire handed me a note addressed to John Silver at the Spy-glass tavern.
“Follow the docks,” he told me. “You’ll find it easily enough. Look for a small tavern with a large brass telescope hanging outside.”
I was thrilled. This was my chance to see more ships and sailors. I hurried through the crowded docks, weaving between people, carts, and piles of goods. The harbor was busier than ever, but at last I found the place.
The Spy-glass was a bright and cheerful little tavern.
The sign outside looked brand new. The windows had tidy red curtains, and the floor was covered with clean sand.
There were streets on both sides of the building, and both doors stood open, so I could see almost the whole large, low room through the thick clouds of tobacco smoke.
Most of the customers were sailors.
They talked loudly and laughed freely, and I stood near the entrance for a moment, feeling a little nervous about going in.
Just then, a man came out from a side room.
At once, I knew he must be Long John Silver.
His left leg had been cut off near the hip, and he carried a crutch under his left arm. Yet he handled it with amazing skill, moving quickly on it as easily as a bird hopping from place to place.
He was extremely tall and strong.
His face was large and plain, almost as wide as a ham, but it was pale, clever, and friendly. He looked cheerful and full of life, whistling as he walked among the tables. He joked with his favorite customers and often gave them a friendly pat on the shoulder.
To be honest, when I first read Squire Trelawney’s letter mentioning Long John Silver, I had feared he might be the same one-legged sailor I had been watching for so long at the Admiral Benbow.
But one look at him changed my mind.
I had already seen Captain Flint’s old companions, Black Dog, and the blind beggar Pew. I thought I knew what a pirate looked like.
This man was nothing like them.
He was a clean, pleasant, and cheerful tavern owner.
I gathered my courage, stepped inside, and walked straight toward him while he stood leaning on his crutch and talking with a customer.
“Mr. Silver?” I asked, holding out the note.
“Yes, my boy,” he replied. “That’s my name. And who might you be?”
Then he noticed the squire’s letter.
He suddenly looked surprised.
“Oh!” he said loudly, holding out his hand. “I understand now. You must be our new cabin boy. I’m very pleased to meet you.”
He took my hand in his large, firm grip.
At that moment, one of the customers at the far end of the room suddenly stood up and rushed toward the door.
The door was right beside him, and he disappeared into the street almost instantly.
But his sudden escape caught my attention.
I recognized him immediately.
It was the pale-faced man missing two fingers—the same man who had first come to the Admiral Benbow.
“Stop him!” I shouted. “That’s Black Dog!”
“I don’t care if he’s an admiral or a beggar,” Silver shouted. “But he hasn’t paid his bill. Harry, run after him!”
A sailor near the door jumped up and chased after him.
“If he were Admiral Hawke himself, he’d still have to pay what he owes!” Silver said.
Then he turned back to me.
“Who did you say he was?”
“Black Dog, sir,” I answered. “Didn’t Mr. Trelawney tell you about the pirates? He was one of them.”
“Was he?” Silver cried. “In my own tavern? Ben, go help Harry catch him. One of those terrible fellows, was he? Morgan, come here. Were you drinking with him?”
A sailor named Morgan stepped forward.
He was an old man with gray hair and a dark, weather-beaten face. He looked nervous as he rolled the tobacco in his mouth.
“Now, Morgan,” said Silver seriously, “you’ve never seen that Black Dog before, have you?”
“No, sir,” Morgan replied with a salute.
“You didn’t even know his name?”
“No, sir.”
“Then you’re lucky, Tom Morgan,” Silver said. “If you had been involved with someone like him, you would never set foot in my tavern again. What was he talking about?”
“I don’t really know, sir,” Morgan answered.
“Don’t know?” Silver cried. “Is that head of yours only for decoration? Perhaps you don’t even know who you were talking to! Come on, what was he saying? Ships? Captains? Voyages? Speak up!”
“We were talking about keel-hauling,” Morgan said.
“Keel-hauling, were you?” Silver replied. “A very suitable subject indeed. Now get back to your seat, you old fool.”
As Morgan returned, Silver leaned toward me and whispered:
“He’s an honest man, Tom Morgan. Just not very clever.”
Then he spoke loudly again.
“Black Dog? No, I don’t know that name. Still, I think I may have seen the fellow before. He used to come here with a blind beggar.”
“That’s true,” I said. “I knew that blind man too. His name was Pew.”
“Pew!” Silver shouted, suddenly excited. “Yes, that was his name! What a dangerous-looking fellow he was. If we catch this Black Dog, Captain Trelawney will want to hear about it. Ben is a fine runner. Few sailors can run faster than him. He’ll catch him soon enough!”
As he shouted these words, Silver stamped around the tavern on his crutch, slapped the tables, and acted so angry and shocked that even a judge would have believed him.
My doubts returned when I saw Black Dog in the Spy-glass, and I watched Silver carefully.
But the man was too clever.
He acted so naturally that I soon began to believe he was innocent.
When the two men finally returned, breathing heavily and admitting they had lost Black Dog in the crowd, Silver scolded them loudly.
By then, I would have sworn that Long John Silver was completely innocent.
“Listen here, Hawkins,” Silver said to me. “This is a terrible situation for a man like me, isn’t it? What will Captain Trelawney think? That Black Dog was sitting in my own tavern, drinking my own rum, and I let him escape right under my nose!”
He looked at his missing leg.
“What could I do with this old piece of wood I walk on? When I was a proper sailor, I would have caught him easily. I would have chased him down and grabbed him before he could blink.”
Suddenly, he stopped.
His mouth dropped open as if he had remembered something.
“The bill!” he shouted.
“Three drinks of rum! Good heavens, I forgot about the bill!”
He fell onto a bench and laughed until tears rolled down his cheeks.
I could not help laughing with him.
We laughed together until the whole tavern seemed to shake.
“What a foolish old sea dog I am!” he said at last, wiping his eyes.
“You and I will get along well, Hawkins. I believe I should be a cabin boy myself.”
Then he stood up.
“But come along. Duty is duty. I’ll put on my old hat and walk with you to Captain Trelawney. We must report this matter.”
He became serious again.
“It’s an important thing, young Hawkins. Neither of us has handled it very well. But still…”
He suddenly laughed again.
“That business about my unpaid rum bill was a good one!”
Once more, I found myself laughing along with him.
As we walked along the docks, Silver proved to be the most interesting companion I could have imagined.
He explained the different ships we passed.
He told me about their designs, sizes, and countries of origin.
He explained how one ship was unloading cargo, another was taking supplies aboard, and another was preparing to leave the harbor.
Every now and then, he told me a sailor’s story or repeated a nautical saying until I remembered it perfectly.
I began to think that I had found one of the finest shipmates anyone could wish for.
When we reached the inn, the squire and Dr. Livesey were sitting together, finishing a large mug of ale before going aboard the schooner to inspect the ship.
Long John told them the entire story from beginning to end.
He told it with great energy and seemed completely honest.
“That’s exactly how it happened, wasn’t it, Hawkins?” he asked me several times.
And each time, I had to agree.
The squire and the doctor were disappointed that Black Dog had escaped, but we all agreed there was nothing more we could do.
After receiving their thanks, Long John picked up his crutch and prepared to leave.
“All hands aboard by four this afternoon!” the squire called after him.
“Aye, aye, sir!” Silver answered.
After he left, Dr. Livesey turned to the squire.
“Well, I usually don’t trust your discoveries very much, but I must admit this—John Silver seems like a good man.”
“He’s a wonderful fellow,” the squire declared.
“And now,” said the doctor, “perhaps Jim can come aboard with us?”
“Of course he can,” said the squire. “Get your hat, Hawkins. We’re going to see the ship.”